


The Scarlet Scarf

by ostara_san



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Dark, LGBTQ Character, Multi, New York City, Romance, Thriller, Violence, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostara_san/pseuds/ostara_san
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being torn away from her home and friends in New York on her tenth birthday, Mikasa is forced to move across the country when her mother's past catches up to her family. Six years later and underestimating the danger she is in, Mikasa makes contact with Eren Jaeger, her childhood best friend, again. When she agrees to meet with him in secret, Mikasa is  thrown into the centre of her mother's past. Mikasa must fight for her life while trying to uncover the mystery of her heritage - what made her mother flee Japan sixteen years ago, and why did they have to leave New York when they had been safe for so long?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Perfect Day

**February 10th, 1929. New York City.**

“Eren. Sit  _ still. _ Do you want to do this or not?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Eren jigged his leg back and forth, eyes darting around the room as his mother scowled at him. In front of him lay a gift waiting to be wrapped. The morning light filtered through a gap in the curtains dimly; the sun had not yet fully risen. The only sounds that could be heard were the tapping of Eren’s foot against the floorboards and the rustling of paper as Eren’s mother tried in vain to wrap the present. Even the pale light was enough to expose how ill she looked - her pallid skin, the dark circles underneath her eyes.

“The sooner you help me with this,” his mother said, “the sooner you can go and see Mikasa. You spent so long making this. All you have to do is wrap it now.”

As carefully as he could, Eren tied the string while his mother held together the paper that wrapped the scarlet scarf he had been knitting for the past month. He had been looking forward to Mikasa’s birthday for weeks, and it had taken an extraordinary amount of effort to keep the secret of his present hidden from her.

“Can I go and see her now?” He asked, admiring his handiwork.

“Yes, you may. Tell her I said happy birthday,” she said; but he was gone in a heartbeat, letting the door slam behind him. His mother rested her head in her arms, and let out a long, slow breath. 

Eren was running up the two flights of stairs between his and Mikasa’s apartments when he heard her door open. When he reached the hallway, she was already standing there, a smile on her face, waiting for him. 

“Happy birthday!” He smiled at her. 

They had been friends for as long as they could remember; when Mikasa and her family had moved to New York from Japan, a few months before Mikasa was born, it had been Eren’s parents who had shown the young couple American life. The women, both pregnant, had become friends, and when Eren and Mikasa were born they had too.

“Thanks!” She grinned back, tucking her long black hair behind her ear. “Do you want to come in? I doubt we’ll be able to go yet. It’s too early.”

“Sure. What’s it like, being ten?” He asked excitedly. “Is it any different?”

Mikasa laughed. “Nope. Is that for me?” She pointed at the present in Eren’s arms.

“Oh, right, yeah! I forgot about that,” Eren laughed. “D’you want to open it now?”

“Yeah,” she said, taking the gift from him and setting it down on the clean coffee table, “but I can’t yet. Mom and Dad said I could my presents tonight.”

“Okay.” Eren stood awkwardly. He never knew how to behave in Mikasa’s apartment; it was so different from his own, despite having the exact same layout. In his apartment, the stained coffee table was cluttered, the walls were lined with bookcases, the floor needed to be swept. Mikasa’s was spotless - the table shined, and the walls were decorated with art. 

“Happy birthday,” Mikasa’s mother entered the room. She pulled Mikasa into a hug, holding her tightly. Mikasa breathed in deeply; she loved the smell of her mother.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said. “It’s still alright if me and Eren go out today, right?”

“Eren and  _ I.  _ Where are you going?”

“We’re going to go and see if Armin’s up, and decide there. I’m not sure what I want to do yet.”

“Good morning, Mrs Jones,” Eren said to Mikasa’s mother, shuffling awkwardly. He was always more comfortable when they were at his house. 

“Hi, Eren,” she said to him. She was a very tall woman, with long black hair like Mikasa’s, tied perfectly into a bun, and sharp eyes. She was one of the only people that intimidated Eren, despite the fact that she was perfectly friendly. “Sit down, both of you. Eren, have you eaten?”

“I have, thanks, Mrs Jones.”

“Alright. Mikasa, do you want some bacon? Eggs? I can make you a cup of coffee, if you like, seeing as you’re so old now.” She grinned and ruffled Mikasa’s hair.

“Okay,” Mikasa said, “but I’ll just have some bread.”

“Make sure you have something hot for lunch. Come home for dinner, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you think Armin will be awake yet?” Eren asked Mikasa, as the smell of coffee began to fill the air. 

“I’m not sure.” She said, her mouth full of bread.  “What do you think coffee’s like, anyway?”

“I bet it’s not very nice,” Eren said, sniffing.  “But it doesn’t smell bad, I guess.”

After several minutes, the coffee was done. Mikasa looked down at it. The drink was steaming and warmed her hands.

“You might want to put some sugar in it.” Mikasa’s mother said.

She took a small, tentative sip. Mikasa had not expected to enjoy it, but she did; despite its bitterness, the coffee had a rich, nutty taste that warmed her instantly. Her mother laughed when Mikasa smiled and took another drink.

“It’s good,” she grinned. “Eren, you try it.”

As soon as the coffee touched his lips, Eren spat it all over his lap. Mikasa laughed at him and took the drink back, while her mother scolded him, trying not to laugh herself, and dabbed the coffee from his trousers. 

“Mom, can we go and get Armin now?” Mikasa asked when she had finished the drink.

“Of course, but don’t you want to go and see your father first?”

“I’ll see him when I get home!” Mikasa called, as Eren pulled her by the hand to the door, where she quickly grabbed her coat and hat before running outside and down the eight flights of stairs that led to the snowy ground outside.

From the window of her apartment, Mikasa’s mother watched as her daughter and Eren ran across the road to the apartment block opposite, leaving boot-prints in the snow. Her daughter was ten years old, safe, happy, and warm. She rested her forehead against the cold glass and thought of all the things that could have happened to Mikasa if they hadn’t managed to escape Japan. 

A loud, pounding knock on the door echoed through the apartment.

* * *

 

“Armin!” A loud knock on the door. “Are you up yet?” 

Mikasa and Eren pressed their ears against the door and heard the soft padding of slippers against floorboards. The door opened to reveal Armin’s grandfather, stifling a yawn. He squinted at them. 

“Eren, Mikasa! It could only be you two here so early in the morning. Come in,” he said, “Armin’s just eating breakfast.”

They entered the kitchen to find Armin hunched over a plate of untouched bacon and a thick, old-looking book. He turned and smiled at them when they came in, his long blonde hair falling over his eyes. 

“Happy birthday!” Armin said to Mikasa, and passed her an envelope. His glasses slid down his nose and he pushed them up.

“What’s this?” She asked, carefully opening it while Eren watched on in anticipation.

Armin rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the floor. “I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he said, nervous. “Grandfather let me go through all of his old newspapers. I found some Japanese ones and I cut out some of the pictures for you. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but I know you’ve never been, so I just thought…” he trailed off.

Mikasa flicked through the images. She had never seen Japan before; all she had ever known was the busy streets of New York, and her mother never spoke of what Japan was like. It looked like a different world - girls wore strange clothes, and the buildings in the city streets were so much more intricate and beautiful. She could feel a tug of longing in her heart, like she missed the place in some kind of irrational way. 

“I love them, Armin,” she said, placing them back in the envelope so she could save them to look at later. Something told her to keep this hidden from her mother; whenever Mikasa tried to talk to her about Japan or her old life, her mother changed the subject and became cold. 

“I’m glad,” he smiled and looked reassured. 

“So where are we going today?” Eren asked. 

“We could go to the fairground,” Armin said, “or we could go and see a baseball game. I can pay if you want. Mom and Dad left me enough money.”

“Baseball sounds great!” Eren said. “But you choose, Mikasa.”

“I like the sound of baseball.”

“So do I,” Armin smiled. He left his empty coffee mug and full plate of breakfast on the table and ran to put on his coat and shoes. 

“Hey! Old man Armin! Is this  _ you _ ?!” Eren exclaimed, pointing towards a picture on the wall. 

“I’ve not seen that picture before,” Mikasa said, looking at it.

“I only put it up there yesterday,” Armin’s grandfather said, coming up behind them. “Armin found it when he was looking for those newspapers.”

The image was of a younger Mr Arlert. His hair was long, just like Armin’s, and he wore similar glasses. His face was smooth and without wrinkles, and he was smiling. Behind him was a forest of tall trees and a sparkling river.

“Where in America is that?” Eren asked, his voice filled with awe.

The old man laughed. “That’s not America,” he said, “that’s Germany. That river’s called the Rhine.”

“All the way in Europe?” Eren asked incredulously. Of all the subjects in school, geography was the only one in which he paid any attention. 

“Yep,” his grandfather chuckled.

“How come you don’t travel anymore?” Mikasa asked.

“I’m too old for that now, and my eyesight’s getting worse by the minute. But I’m sure Armin will be able to tell me what the rest of world is like when he’s older.” 

“Are you guys ready?” Armin said, walking over.

“Yep!” Said Mikasa and Eren. They said their goodbyes to Armin’s grandfather and headed back out into the cold. Mikasa enjoyed the sound of the snow crunching under her.

“So when do your parents get back?” Mikasa said to Armin.

“I’m not sure. Mom said they’d be a few days, but it’s been a week already and I’ve not heard from them. I know they’re busy with work and everything, but I wish they would just write.” He stared at his shoes.

Mikasa opened her mouth to offer some words of comfort, but Eren spoke before her. “Who needs them?” He said. “Your grandfather is much cooler anyway. You get to look through all his travelling stuff too!”

“Yeah, I guess he is.” Armin’s smile returned to his face. It was a only a few blocks away to the stadium, and their coats protected them from the cold. 

“So what else have you gotten for your birthday?” Armin asked.

“I don’t know yet. Mom and Dad won’t let me open my presents until tonight.”

“Make sure you tell me what you got tomorrow. Hey, is that Jean?” Armin squinted at a figure in the distance.

“I think it is,” Eren sighed, annoyed. 

“It’s definitely Jean.” Mikasa said. “You can tell by the way he’s walking that he’s got something to say.”

“Shall we just hide?”

“He’s already seen us.” Armin said.

Before they had reached the end of the block, Jean Kirstein walked over to them, brandishing a ticket in his hand. 

“Look what I managed to get!” He said. No matter how much he tried to hide it, a hint of his German accent was still detectable in his voice. 

“Is that for today’s game?” Armin asked. 

“Yep,” Jean said, “I know you guys would  _ love _ to hang out with me,  ” He laughed. 

“We’re going to buy tickets, a _ ctually. _ ” Eren said to him, scowling.

“Calm down, Jaeger, isn’t it Mikasa’s birthday?” He turned to her. “Sorry for making your boyfriend mad, Mikasa. ”

“Lay it off, Jean.” Eren threatened.

Mikasa glared at him, but the blush on her cheeks provided Jean with the reaction he desired. 

“Happy birthday,” he winked, and fell into step with them. “Looks like I’m going to just have to put up with you lot then. I was going to go and watch the game with the older kids, but you guys will have to do.”

They reached the stadium, and Armin bought the tickets. “Well, don’t you want to go and tell them you’re going to be with us?” He said, looking at Jean skeptically. 

“What, the older kids?” He laughed, his eyes breaking contact with Armin’s. He ran a hand through his mousy hair. “No, they’ll probably come find me or something.”

They sat at the top row of the stadium, with a perfect view of the field. 

“How long until the game starts?” Eren asked, bored. 

“Ten minutes or so, I guess,” Armin said, cleaning his glasses with his sleeve. 

“Let me try them on!” Jean said, swiftly taking them from Armin’s grasp and putting them on. He batted his eyelashes. “Hey, Eren, do I look like a pretty boy now?” 

“Knock it off, Jean,” Armin said, hurt. 

“Anyone know where any boys are around here?” Jean said, pretending to comb his hair. 

Mikasa glared at him. “Jean. Stop.”

“Eren, really!” Jean threw his arm around Eren, who was glaring at him too. He stopped laughing. “Here, fine. Take them back. They were giving me a headache anyway.”

They sat awkwardly in silence for several minutes before the game started. The stadium was full and erupted into cheers when they players walked onto the field. Immediately Armin began keeping track of the score aloud, and as always, a group of people started to form around him, listening intently as he explained to them who was winning and when points were scored.

“Cough up, folks, he isn’t doing this for free, you know!” Jean said to the men in the crowd. 

“How old are you? Shouldn’t you be with your mother instead of charging strangers to listen to a kid?” One man said.

“Sir, with all due respect, why don’t you keep track of the score yourself?” Jean asked, grinning slyly. “A dollar or he stops!” 

“Shouldn’t you be giving this to Armin?” Mikasa said to Jean after he had finished collecting from the crowd.

“Lunch is on me, seeing as it’s your birthday, but that’s all I’m giving out, okay?”

“I don’t want it anyway.” Armin said. “Keep it.”

“Fine,” Jean said, suddenly angry at the fistful of dollars in his pocket. He sat down and watched the game from his seat, not saying a word until it was over. 

Mikasa left the game feeling bubbly and happy. Sport always filled her with excitement, and she was eager to find a wagon where they could buy hot food. Jean kept unusually quiet, lagging behind with Armin when Eren challenged Mikasa to a race to the end of the block. The streets were bustling with people, and Mikasa and Eren weaved in and out of them as they ran, laughing and trying not to slip in the snow. Mikasa won, as she always did, and stood panting and grinning while she and Eren waited for Jean and Armin to catch up. 

Eventually they came across a wagon selling hot potato chips and frankfurters, sheltered from the snow by several large umbrellas. Jean cheered up slightly after buying lunch for them all, and the four of them sat together on a park bench.

Tired and slightly shivery, Mikasa laid her head on Eren’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She could smell the leftovers of her potato chips and hear Armin and Jean talking, while Eren sat peacefully with her. Everyone had calmed down now that the adrenaline of the sports game had worn off and their stomachs had been sated with food. Jean gave her a dollar and an apologetic look. 

Years later, when Mikasa looked back on this moment, it made her happy, yet filled her with a longing that drove her to despair. These were her last memories of them.

* * *

 

“I’ll come down to yours after I have dinner and open my presents, okay?” Mikasa said to Eren that evening.

He pulled her into a hug. “Hot chocolate on the fire escape?”

“That sounds pretty good. See you later!” 

When Mikasa opened the door to her apartment, it looked more like Eren’s than her own. Things were scattered everywhere - the table was covered in books; bags stuffed with clothes lay next to the door. 

“Mikasa!” Her mother shouted to her. Mikasa had never seen her mother afraid until that moment. She saw it in her ruffled blouse, the strands of hair falling from her bun; she saw it in her mother’s eyes, and it terrified her. 

“Mom?” She could feel fear rising in her. “What’s this? What’s going on? Dad?” Mikasa turned, and saw a man she had never seen before standing in her living room.

“Mikasa, this man is called Erwin.” Her mother drew in a deep breath, trying to stop her voice from becoming shrill with panic. “I used to know him back when I lived in Japan.”

“In Japan? Dad? What is going on?”

Her father knelt down and put his hand on Mikasa’s shoulder. “Sweetie, I’m sorry, but we have to leave New York.”

“What? What do you mean? How long for?” 

Mikasa’s father looked at her mother; she nodded. “Forever.” He said.

Mikasa laughed a shrill, nervous laugh. “What are you talking about?” She said. “We can’t leave New York, I’m going to meet Eren after dinner…”

“Go and see Eren now.” Her mother said, hiding the tears in her voice. “Tell him goodbye, okay?”

“Goodbye? But…”

“We’re leaving in ten minutes. Go and say goodbye.”

Mikasa looked at her, her heart pounding, turned, and ran out of the apartment.

“Eren!” Mikasa pounded on the door of Eren’s apartment. “EREN!”

The door flung open. “Mikasa? What’s wrong?” 

“I came home and there was mess everywhere, and there was a man there that I didn’t know and he was touching our stuff, and I asked Mom what was going on and she said that we’re leaving New York forever and that I should come and say goodbye to you-” she burst into tears.

Eren looked at her. His mind was searching for the right words to say but no combination of words seemed to make sense. He laughed. 

“You can’t leave, though. Why would you leave? When are you coming back?”

“I’m not,” she wailed.

“Hey, why are you crying? Come in, sit down.” Eren’s mother said. 

“Mikasa’s leaving,” Eren said, his voice dull and flat. He didn’t sound like Eren. “And she isn’t coming back.”

“Mikasa, is this true?” The woman said, disbelieving. 

She just nodded as she stared at the wet patch her tears were making on her dress. Eren’s mother left in a hurry; Eren heard her footsteps up the two flights of stairs. 

“Maybe we should run away,” Eren said. 

“Would it mean I’d get to stay with you?” Mikasa asked. Her voice was still choked with tears.

“Of course it would.”

“Where would we go?” 

“Armin’s.” 

“They’d look for us there.” Mikasa sniffed. 

They sat in silence for a minute. 

“I can’t believe we’re never going to see each other again. This doesn’t make any sense. Where am I going to live? What’s going to happen to my apartment?”

“I don’t know,” Eren said quietly. He hated seeing Mikasa cry. “But write to me from wherever you’re going.”

“I will.”

“Mikasa!” Her mother’s voice, filled with the same panic, came from outside. “We’re leaving! Now!”

Mikasa didn’t move. “I’ll write. I’ll run away and visit you if I need to.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Then it’s done.”

He hugged her for the last time.

Mikasa grabbed the bag her mother was holding out for her, tears still falling from eyes, and followed the strange man down the six flights of stairs leading to the car that waited outside.

Eren almost began to follow them too, but realised that his birthday gift to her had not been in any of the adult’s hands. He ran faster than he ever had, passing his mother, who was sat, looking shell-shocked, on the stairs; he pushed open the unlocked door of the apartment and grabbed the brown package from the corner of the room, where items still lay scattered and discarded on the floor. Then, he was after them, ripping open the paper as he ran, not wanting to delay seeing Mikasa’s reaction to his gift. He exited the building just as Mikasa’s door slammed shut and the car pulled away.

“Mikasa!” He shouted, running through the snow, ignoring the cold of the night air on his bare skin. The scarlet scarf trailed behind him, and he saw Mikasa’s head poke out of the car window, shouting to him too, crying as she saw the only splash of colour against the black sky, grey buildings, and white snow disappear as they turned a corner and were gone. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Ochoco

**April 15th, 1935. Ochoco National Forest, Oregon.**  

Mikasa let her aching feet soak in the cool water of the lake. The afternoon sun beat down on her back, hot and unforgiving. She wiped the sweat from her forehead walked over to Erwin, feeling the grass between her toes. 

“Again?” Erwin asked. She nodded at him and picked up her wooden knife from the ground. He gave no warning before running towards her and thrusting his knife forwards at her chest, but she still managed to grab his arm and stop him from making impact. He kicked out her legs, sending her to ground. Grunting, she jumped to her feet and tried again, this time on the offense, aiming to kick him in the stomach. He stepped back, dodging her. She leaned back to avoid the swing he made to her face, and ducked under his arm, moving upwards to stab him in the throat. Her hand stopped just before the dummy knife made impact. 

“Good.” He said. “Jog home, and you’ll be done for today. I’m going to go and collect some firewood. See you back there.”

“Erwin!” She called as he began to run away. “Can I take a walk through the forest first?”

“Okay,” he said, “but be back before the sun begins to set, alright?”

She nodded, grabbed her shoes, and began walking in the opposite direction to Erwin. The sky was completely blue, and the sun shone upon the lake, causing it to glisten. _If Eren were here,_ she thought, _I bet he’d challenge me to a swimming race._ It had been over six years since she had last seen him; six years since that cold February night, the night of her birthday. She hadn’t thought it possible to miss somebody so much.

Where she lived now couldn’t be more different than New York, and yet, everything reminded her of Eren. There were no bustling streets filled with people, only winding rivers and streams. There were no food wagons, no cinema shows; instead she trained with Erwin and ate food that he and her father caught. Mikasa missed all of the things she had once enjoyed so much in New York, but what she missed the most was her friends, as they had been replaced by silence.

Mikasa barely knew why she trained with Erwin; even after been torn from her home, the only explanation her mother offered was that they were being chased. By who? This meagre answer had almost driven Mikasa mad over the past six years. She had screamed to fill the quiet, she had tried to run away, she had cried and kicked and broken things, but her mother never relented. So they lived their lives in the park, hunting and tending the horses.

Her mother never let her write to Eren. In the first year of their new life she had tried many times and been unsuccessful; the guilt she had felt had almost eaten her alive. She had pleaded, begged. Her mother told her no. Her attempts landed her in serious trouble with her parents, and she was kept in the house, only allowed outside to train with Erwin. In the end, she complied with them, and in the years that followed, Mikasa had gained more and more independance. She was allowed to wander the park, ride her horse and swim in the lake alone. She liked Erwin more than she liked her mother. Though she hated the training at first, over the years Mikasa had learned to direct her anger and frustration into her self-defense and fighting lessons, chopping wood, and riding her horse. It made it easier for her to avoid making her mother angry and suspicious of her. 

Mikasa never told them that she had begun writing to Eren. They would lock her in the house again. The first letter she had posted was long, filled with apologies and explanations. She didn’t feel guilty for disobeying her parents wishes; they were unreasonable and paranoid to her, and she hated feeling trapped by them. Even if there were people after them, Eren would be the last person to give them away. But she was careful nonetheless; she sent her letters from a post office in the town over, and her letters were left by the town’s notoriously inebriated postman in a the trunk of a hollowed-out tree. This was more to hide the letters from her parents than any mysterious killers after them.

Her feet dry, Mikasa slipped on her shoes and began running to the hollow tree; she was due a letter from Eren. Her heart beat quickly, in time with her footsteps. It would be her fourth letter from him. His first reply had come back, just as long as hers, and was filled with words of excitement and disbelief. Armin had written on it, too, his neat handwriting just below Eren’s, which was messy and unkept, just like him. She knew she should burn the letters to eliminate the chance of being found out, but she could not bring herself to do so. Instead she kept them hidden rolled up inside a wooden block that she had hollowed out the inside of. They were tucked away with the pictures of Japan she had received from Armin on her birthday. She read them every night, and each time she did they filled a little bit of the loneliness that hollowed out her heart.

Mikasa ran faster when they hollow tree came into view. A tiny white slip poked out of the bottom, visible to those who looked for it. She picked it up sank against the trunk of the tree, panting with the effort of running in the heat. Mikasa loved the satisfying sound of the envelope tearing open and the crinkle of paper in her hands. Her eyes wanted to devour the words written on the page, but she forced herself to read slowly, taking in every sentence.

 _Mikasa,_ it read,

_I know this isn’t the first time I’ve written but it feels like it. Every time the post comes I get so excited. I waited for you to write for so long that now I know you haven’t forgotten about us waiting for the post is exciting again. I know it wasn’t your fault though. Your mom seems really strict now. I hope you’re alright._

_Dad is coming home soon. You’ll never guess where he’s going! Oregon!! I’m going to ask if I can go with him. I have no idea if we’ll be anywhere near where you are but if you want to and you think you can get away with it, I can come to where you’re living and see you for a while! Wouldn’t that be the best thing? I would get to give you your present. You know. For your tenth birthday? Write back to me about it and we might be able to arrange something._

_Armin said I should try and describe was life is like here now. The New York I lived in with you doesn’t really feel like the same city. It’s more grey somehow. You know. I’m not that good at describing stuff. At least it’s getting warmer now. Dad’s always away these days, trying to find work, and since Mom died, it’s been pretty cold in the apartment. I mostly stay with Armin, either in his parents’ apartment or in mine. Usually he’s out helping the old man though. I think it’s hard for Armin to look after him so I help out a lot of the time. It’s sad watching someone who lived to see the world go blind. The old man’s stories are still the most colourful things in this darn city though. It’s odd. I really want to get out of this place and travel so I can tell him my own stories._

_We still see Jean but not as much. I think Armin knows more about it than I do, but he’s been getting involved with some really shady business. I told Armin that it’s probably just because he wants to play the gangster, but he actually seems pretty worried. I guess I am too. Everyone’s a bit different now._

_Write back to me as soon as you can about this whole Oregon business and let me know how things are with you. I was going to ask Armin to write something but he was busy and I wanted to post this as soon as I could._

_Eren_

Mikasa read the letter again to make sure she hadn’t been imagining what it said. Seeing Eren again? It seemed too good to be true. Her hands shook and a laugh bubbled from her. Neatly she folded the letter into her pocket and began running back home.

As she ran through the forest of tall pines separating her house from the hollow tree, she imagined they were the buildings of New York, imposing and colossal. The sun shone through their leaves, creating dappled spots of light on the dark ground. All that Mikasa could hear was the gentle _thud_ of her feet hitting the ground and her breathing. If she stopped, it was silent; there was no wind to disturb the tree branches and no stream close to her. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but not due to the exercise. It was the thought of seeing her closest childhood friend again.

She conjured an image of him in her mind. The same height as her, with messy and unkempt brown hair, a permanent grin, and green eyes. He was curious yet unaware, and Mikasa smiled as she thought of all the days they had spent together. But he wouldn’t look like that when they saw each other again. Mikasa did not know what she should expect; would he be solemn faced now? She had heard from her parents that poverty had hit New York hard; that Central Park had been filled with people living under tin roofs with newspaper blankets. He had lost his mother, too, a year after Mikasa had left the city. Would he be taller than her? Would his eyes be the same as they once were - curious and shining with the innocence of childhood? She doubted it strongly, but did not wish to see him any less. He would still be Eren to her. She wondered if she would look different to him. 

The trees grew sparse and Mikasa reached the winding path that led from the edge of the forest to her house; it came into view when she reached the top of a hill. The sun was just beginning to set; there was an orange tint to the horizon. Their house wasn’t huge, but it fitted them comfortably. Erwin was outside, chopping wood. She slowed to a walk, panting slightly. 

“Good walk?” He asked. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t bad.” Mikasa said, and entered the house.

“Mikasa, where have you been?” Her mother asked. She was sat at the table, her hair pulled back into a tight bun.

 Mikasa walked over to the fireplace and smelled the stew that was cooking over it. “I was training with Erwin.” She said. “I went for a quick walk after.”

 Her mother’s expression softened slightly. “Okay. Go and wash your face, you look filthy. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

 “Okay, Mom.” Mikasa said, disappearing up the stairs. She splashed her face with cold water, trying to calm herself down before her evening lesson started. She changed clothes and hid the letter, her excitement building as she thought of writing a reply. When she returned downstairs her mother had gathered some paper for her to write upon and a large book. A cup of steaming coffee also waited for her on the table.

Mikasa took a sip of the drink and sat down. “What are we studying today?” She asked.

“Geography,” her mother said. She pushed the book over to her. “Start from the beginning of the book and write down anything you think is relevant.”

Mikasa read through the pages. The book began with basic European geography. Mikasa felt despondent. It was not that she didn’t understand the notes she was making, more that she didn’t see the point - why study all of these faraway places if she was never going to be allowed to leave the park? A sigh escaped her, and she sipped her coffee at the end of every page, almost as a reward for her task. As her hand wrote she imagined that she was writing to Eren, and forced herself through it. After they ate she would be allowed upstairs to be alone and she would write her letter then. Her mind began to buzz with all the thoughts of things she would say. She would make sure to leave a note for Armin too, inquiring about Jean. The sun set a little more with every page she wrote and eventually it dipped below the horizon to make way for night.

When the candles grew too dim for her to write by her mother lit the lamp and allowed Mikasa to pack away her things. She set the table for dinner.

“Dear! Come down; dinner’s ready!” Mikasa’s mother called to her father. “Mikasa, could you go and find Erwin?" 

“Okay,” Mikasa said, and wandered outside. The cold chill of night-time made her shiver and she pulled her cardigan around her shoulders more tightly.

“Erwin!” She called, walking around behind the house to the large shed where he slept. Erwin had refused to stay in the house when they had moved to the park, instead building himself his own small area to sleep and work. Erwin had been an imposing figure when Mikasa had been small, but he was kind, and Mikasa’s mother trusted him inexplicably. Mikasa, despite weary of her situation, was grateful to him, for she did believe that they had been in danger - she was just itching to see the world, and frustrated at being trapped.

“What is it?” Erwin asked, opening the door to his shed.

“Food’s ready,” she said.

“Ah, okay.” He said. He followed her back into the house and they sat down at the table. Mikasa wondered how many times she had eaten stew over the last six years.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said. Her mother smiled at her, something that was rare except at mealtimes.

 

“How was your geography lesson, Mikasa?” Her father asked. He was a much shorter man than Erwin, and far less strong; generally, he took care of their garden while Erwin would be the one to catch the rabbits and fish they would eat.

“It wasn’t bad,” said Mikasa. “I learnt about Europe’s rivers mostly.”

“Sounds interesting,” her father said, prompting her for more information; she remained silent.

Her mother began talking to her father about seeing one of the other park guards, and Mikasa half-listened, stirring her stew with her fork.

“Mikasa, how about you do some swimming in the lake tomorrow?” Erwin asked.

“That sounds fine,” Mikasa said.

“We can continue with the training we did today, too.”

“The self-defence?” Mikasa asked.

“Yeah. I was impressed with you today. You really caught me off guard when you held the knife to my throat like that.”

“You what, Mikasa?” Her mother asked. “Erwin, what have you been teaching her? You're not supposed to be attacking people!”

“Self-defense, Mom. I was just doing what I would do if I was attacked. I’m only doing it because you make me do it.”

“Mikasa, I’ve told you a hundred times, you need to learn how to defend yourself.”

“That’s what I was doing!” Mikasa said, beginning to get angry. “But for what?" 

“We didn’t leave New York for no reason you know, contrary to what you seem to believe! We made it out by the skin of our teeth and I hope you realise how lucky you are for that!”

Mikasa fell silent, suddenly shameful. _By the skin of our teeth._ Her mother had never told her that before. How close had she come to death that night?  

“I’m sorry.” She said, staring at her stew. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her mother, but she was so angry with her surroundings that everything seemed pointless. She needed to get out of the house, but her mother wouldn’t let her out now; it was too late.

 _I’ll post Eren’s letter tonight._ She thought to herself. _I’m sure I can get away on Saint without them noticing._

The rest of their meal passed in silence. Mikasa washed and then retreated to her bedroom, already excited to write her letter to Eren. Briefly, she stood and watched the scene of her parents cleaning the kitchen from the landing that overlooked the downstairs area of the house. Sitting at her desk moments later, Mikasa looked at all of her writing equipment and tried to figure out what to say. The scratching sounds of her dip pen against paper was all Mikasa could hear as she wrote to Eren. With every sentence she grew happier, less guilty for snapping at her mother and more excited at the prospect of seeing Eren.

After she had finished writing the letter she folded it into her pocket and waited for her parents to fall asleep. She stared at the ceiling until she heard them retreat to their bedroom. She waited for another half an hour after that to make sure that they were definitely asleep, then grabbed her coat.

Mikasa slid open her bedroom window and jumped the small distance from the frame to a thick tree branch. As quiet as possible, Mikasa climbed down the tree’s branches and jumped when she was sure she would be silent doing so. Creeping around the back of Erwin’s shed, Mikasa slowly untied her horse, Saint, and led him several meters away before jumping upon his back and riding through the night to the nearest town.

The cold night air blew past her, making her coat billow in the wind. She pushed her hair back from her eyes and allowed the dim light of the waning moon to guide her path. There was only one thing Mikasa loved more about the countryside than the city - her night-time rides with Saint. He had been a good companion to her over the past six years, and her only friend. You could never see the stars in the city - they were outshone by the lights of buildings and masked by smog. In the country, Mikasa could see thousands of tiny shining pinpricks against the dark sky, forming the constellations she had studied at her kitchen table. She wished that Eren could see that sight, rather than the tainted sky in New York. _No,_ Mikasa thought to herself, smiling sadly, _that’s not it;_ _I just wish that we could stand and watch the same sky together. If only I could bring this sky home with me, and then everything would be perfect._

She passed the hollow tree, pushing Saint to ride faster, and carried on until the dirt path became wider and Saint’s hooves made satisfying _clip-clop_ sounds against the road. Mikasa knew that Gelgar, the postman, would be awake still; he always was at this hour. When she had previously visited him before her parents awoke, Mikasa had seen him through a gap in the curtains, passed out on his floor, fully dressed with bottles of alcohol littered around him. Eventually the town came into view. Mikasa slowed Saint to a halt and tied him to a fence.  

“Stay right here for me, okay?” Mikasa said, stroking his mane. “Good boy.”

She jogged the rest of the way to Gelgar’s house and knocked on the door. 

“Ahhh, Miki- Mikasa!” He said, swaying slightly on the spot. His eyes were unfocused and stared straight through her. “How can I help you?”

“I have a letter for you,” Mikasa said. “I’ll pay you for for the stamp, so could you send it for me?”

“Sure I can.” He said. “Is this another one of those for your boyfriend?”

Mikasa’s cheeks flushed a deep red. “He’s not my boyfriend.” She said, attempting to keep a straight face. “He’s my friend from when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving a hand nonchalantly, “they say that about me too.”

Gelgar amused Mikasa. “Have some water. You shouldn’t drink any more of that stuff tonight.” She said.

“I won’t, Mikasa,” he grinned at her; she wasn’t sure what part of what she had said he was referring to. Sighing, she thanked him and walked away. Saint was waiting for her when she left and she make quick pace home.

That night, with the blankets pulled over her head, Mikasa fell asleep wondering what Eren was doing, and hoping that he was happy.


	3. Life in New York City

**April 19th, 1935. New York City.**

_ Eren,  _

_ I can hardly believe what you’re saying. You mean that you’re going to be coming here? To Oregon? You need to write back and tell me exactly when you’re going to be coming. I have to see you, and I’m sure I’ll be able to sneak away for long enough. This is so surreal.There are so many things I want to show you here.  _

_ Mom and Dad had told me about what New York was like now, but I still wish I was there with you. Life here is beautiful but it feels as if every day is the same. I miss you and Armin more than anything. I still feel guilty about not being able to write to you for so long, and I wish I could have sooner, but at least I am now. I have to wait until my parents fall asleep to send this so I can sneak out of the house. _

_ I’ve left a note for Armin here. Will you pass it on to him from me? I really wish I could see him as well. Tell his grandfather that I say hello. I miss his stories too. Hell, I even miss Jean. I did some training with Erwin yesterday. Learning how to fight feels tiresome and pointless. I wish I didn’t have to do it but Mom thinks it’s really important. She’s not the same person anymore.  _

_ She said something at the dinner table, though. She told me that we barely escaped New York by the skin of our teeth. It made me wonder. If these people were after us, did they almost catch us that night? We only knew that they were coming because of Erwin. He won’t tell anything to me about these people, whoever they are, but what if he doesn’t know they’re coming next time? I guess we’re safe here. Nobody but you knows where I am. _

_ Sorry I brought down the mood there. I’m so excited to see you! Tell me all the details and make sure you pass on that note to Armin.  _

_ Love, Mikasa _

Eren held the letter tightly in his hands, smiling wide.

“It was from her, then?” Armin said, peering over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Eren said, passing it to him. “Do you want to read it? There’s a note for you, too.”

They were still standing at the door where Eren had picked up the letter. They had spent the night in his apartment rather than Armin’s. The wallpaper was peeling slightly and the apartment was messy. There wasn’t much, but Eren’s father managed to pay the rent and Armin’s parents left enough money for them to eat.

“She’s asking about Jean,” Armin said. “Eren, isn’t this so… so peculiar? It’s Mikasa. It’s actually her.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eren said, almost breathless. “It really is her. I mean, we acted like she was dead or something and now I might actually get to see her! Six years, Armin. Six years! I need to write a reply.”

He ran quickly to the table and began gathering his writing equipment. 

“What’s going on with Jean, then?” Eren said as he wrote.

“I don’t want to make Mikasa worried or anything, but I really am pretty concerned about what he’s been up to. I might go and see him later. I haven’t seen him since we told him about Mikasa. Pass me a piece of paper?”

“Here. As much as Jean gets on my nerves, I don’t want him falling in with the wrong sort.” Eren said, sliding a sheet over. 

“I hope it’s not too late.”

There was a pause.

“Did you get that translating job?” Eren asked. “You haven’t mentioned it in a while.”

“I didn’t hear back from them. I guess I can’t lie about my age; I barely look twelve, let alone eighteen.”

“That’s stupid,” Eren said, glaring, “I bet you’re better than everyone that applied. How are the languages going then?”

“It sucks, but I’m sure I wasn’t the best. And they’re not going too badly, I guess. Grandpa hasn’t been able to teach me as much recently but I’ve been reading a few German books and I think I’m almost there with French.”

“That’s so cool!” Eren said. “What about Japanese?”

Armin grinned sheepishly. “I’ve not done any for months. It’s a lot more difficult when I try to learn on my own.”

“I’m sure you’re better than I could ever be though,” Eren laughed. “I’m hopeless at all that stuff.”

“You’re not hopeless,” Armin said, “you just don’t pay attention. Are you done with the letter?”

“Just about. Shall we go and post it?”

“Sounds good.” Armin said, sliding their messages into an envelope and sticking stamps onto the corner.

Armin made sure to close the apartment door quietly as they left. The streets were almost bare and the overcast clouds were tinted grey with the threat of rain.

“What d’you say to her then?” Armin asked, slightly out of breath. He almost had to jog to keep up with Eren’s pace. 

“I told her I’d be down in two weeks. There’s a motel about ten miles from the outskirts of the park. Turns out Dad is only staying there for a week but at least I’ll be able to see her.”

“You get to see Mikasa and get out of this city. I’m unbelievably jealous of you.” Armin looked up at him. “I wish I could go.”

“Well, your old man needs you here, right?”

“I know,” Armin said, “but it seems to me that you just want some time alone with Mikasa. I wonder what she looks like now... ”

“Shut up,” Eren said glaring at him, his cheeks tainted pink.

They reached the postbox and Eren posted the letter. “There,” he said. “Now I just have to wait for a reply. What are you doing now?” 

“I think I’m going to go and find Jean. I haven’t seen him in a while.” Armin said. “What about you?” 

“I’m gonna go for a run and then get some breakfast. Are you coming back to the apartment after?”

“Yeah, I need to pick up some of my clothes.” 

“Alright, I’ll cook some eggs or something. See you later!” 

“See you, Eren!” 

* * *

Jean sat in a dark, quiet room, waiting. His breath was the only thing he could hear.  _ Stop being an idiot,  _ he told himself,  _ what’s wrong with you? Stop acting like a child.  _ The door clicked open and Jean clutched the stolen letter in his hand.

A man entered. He was short and wore a hat, and his face carried a mean expression. “You mean to tell me you know the girl I’ve been looking for?” His voice was thick with an accent Jean supposed was Japanese. 

“Maybe I do,” Jean said, chastising himself internally for letting his words come out shaky. “What do you want with her?”

“Nothing you need to know too much about,” he said, bending down and placing his hands on the table. “But I can tell you that she’ll be fine. She belongs to us, you see.”

_ She’s been gone for six years. You don’t even know that girl anymore.  _ “Right.” Jean said. “And you’re saying that if I tell you where she is then you’ll give me the money?”

“Yes, of course,” the man said, waving a hand, “and you can do whatever you want with it.” 

Jean hesitated for a brief moment. What if the man was lying? What if Mikasa was really going to be put in danger because of him? He gripped the letter tighter.

_ But you need the money,  _ said a voice in the back of his head.  _ What’s your mom going to do, huh? How are you supposed to look after her if you’re flat broke? _

Jean grimaced and passed Eren’s letter to the man over the table. Mikasa’s return address was written on the back.

“Oregon.” He said, his tone shifting from unnerving to disbelieving. “Levi!” He shouted, and a short man with black hair and dark eyes entered the room.

“What is it?”

“They’re in Oregon,” he said, his eyes wide. “Boy, this is your last chance to tell me if you’re a stinking liar, because if this is wrong, you’re dead.”

Jean felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. “Of course it’s right,” he said, feigning confidence. 

“Leave now. You’ll get the money soon.”

“Is that it?” Jean asked. He almost felt as if it had been too easy.

“Yeah. Now get out.”

Jean stood up and left, pausing at the door after he shut it behind him. He lingered for a moment, trying to decipher the muffled voices. He pressed his ear to the wood. 

“With all due respect, sir,” he heard the man named Levi saying, “we can’t be in Oregon for at least two weeks... No, we can’t leave now. We have too many things to prepare.”

At the sound of footsteps approaching the doorway, Jean rushed down the stairs, past two burly looking men, and out into the cold morning air. Gooseflesh rose on his skin as he hurried back to his apartment where his mother was waiting. As he walked, he did his best to ignore the rising anxiety and guilt in his chest, and focused on reaching the end of each block. 

When he was two blocks away from his home the worry began to subside and his breathing became calmer. He wondered to himself what the rest of the day would entail; now that he was receiving what he was told would be a sizeable portion of money from the men he had spoken to, he didn’t feel the need to work. 

“Jean!” Called a voice as he turned a street corner. Armin was suddenly running toward him. Jean looked at him as he ran, trying hard to appear nonchalant. Armin’s eyelashes were long and framed his blue eyes. His hair was blonde and reached just past his chin; Jean could not help but think that he was prettier than a lot of girls were. 

“What, Arlert?” Jean said, suddenly angry. “I have places to be.”

“Where?” Armin said, falling into step with him, out of breath from running. He was shorter than Jean was by a sizeable amount.

“Home.” Jean said. Any trace of a German accent in his voice had disappeared over the last six years. “Why do you care?”

Armin paused for a moment. “I wanted to come and see you. We haven’t spoken in a while. Plus it’s going to be pretty lonely for me when Eren goes to see Mikasa.” 

“Eren’s going to see Mikasa?” Jean said, guilt creeping up on him. 

“Yeah, in a couple weeks. He’s cooking breakfast soon so I was going to ask if you wanted to come, but don’t worry about it.” Armin saw how thin Jean was under his clothes.

Jean rubbed the back of his head. He didn’t want to talk about Mikasa. “I guess I can spare time for that.”

“What are you doing out so early anyway?” He said, smiling at Jean’s acceptance of his offer.

“I was taking a walk. And don’t smile at me like that,” Jean said, trying to ignore the hot feeling in his cheeks. “It makes you look like a girl.”

“Why’s that a bad thing?” Armin asked.

“It just is, so stop it.” Jean couldn’t look Armin in the eyes.

They walked in silence for a few moments. Armin watched the blocks roll by and pondered the victorious feeling in his chest. Was it because Jean was coming over? He suddenly realised that he would need to hastily clear away his clothes from Eren’s bedroom floor. He didn’t want Jean getting the wrong idea about him and Eren. 

“I need to stop off at home before we leave.” Jean said. Armin nodded and waited outside the apartment block while Jean rushed inside. Their apartment was tiny, with barely enough room to fit both Jean and his mother. It consisted of three rooms - a small, cramped bathroom with damp crawling on the ceiling, a kitchen and living room combined into one, and Jean’s room, which barely held a bed and dresser inside. The only plus to their dingy home was the fact that they lived on the bottom floor of the apartment block.

“Mom? Are you awake?” Jean said softly, speaking in German, as he shut the door behind him.

“Jean…” his mother slurred from the living room. She slept on the couch, never far from a bottle of alcohol. “Where have you been?”

Jean smiled at her and lifted her head gently to prop her head up on a pillow. Her light brown hair fell into her eyes. “I was… at work,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie - his involvement with the Japanese gang brought the only money they had. He simply told his mother he was working for someone, and she was always too drunk to question him about it. 

“That’s my boy,”his mother smiled. The smell of last night’s alcohol lingered on her breath. “Your father would be proud of you, going out, making a living…” Her voice cracked.

Jean smiled at her. “Let’s not think about Dad now, yeah? Come on, get some sleep. I’m going to Armin and Eren’s for breakfast. I’ll bring you back something.”

His mother smiled back at him. “I’ve not heard Armin’s name in a while. I didn’t realise you still talked to him.”

“He’s waiting outside, so I’ve got to be quick.”

“Tell him to come in. Don’t we have some coffee in the cupboard? Didn’t you say he liked that?”

“We ran out of coffee two months ago, ma,” Jean said. “And you can hardly speak any English.”

“Oh,” said his mother. She rolled onto her side and vomited into a bowl that waited the end of the couch. She groaned and Jean quickly grabbed her a glass of water. She tried to get up.

“I don’t think so, ma. You need to rest.” He pulled a blanket over her. She sipped the water and Jean dabbed her mouth with a tissue. She said nothing else, lay back down, and was asleep within seconds. His heart ached with worry for her. He knew he should stop buying her the stuff but she seemed worse without it; she was crueller to him, and cried over Jean’s father. Usually the drawer filled with army medals stayed shut, but when drink was sparse, it opened.

Jean looked at her sleeping peacefully one more time before entering the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror. He had punched it, once, in a fit of rage, and a jagged crack ran down its centre, deforming his reflection. He splashed cold water on his face and studied his face, watching as the water dripped down his cheeks and into the dirty bowl. Had he made the right choice? Should he have given the man that letter? It was done now, anyway, he told himself, and he would be able to keep his mother fed for a few weeks, hopefully months, depending on how much he was given. 

Jean’s eyes were lined with dark circles and his face was pale. When was the last time he had eaten a full meal? He seemed to live off of bites to eat. Under his baggy clothes, Jean was probably almost as skinny as Armin.  _ And Armin’s built like a girl _ , he thought to himself, a strange fondness overcoming him. He cast it aside, thinking instead how excited he was to eat a proper breakfast. He tried to smooth down his hair and then left. He made sure to lock the door as quietly as possible. 

“Hey,” Armin said when Jean reappeared, smiling. 

“Let’s go,” Jean said walking quickly away from his home and trying to push away thoughts of his mother. 

“One of these days you’re going to have to invite me in,” Armin said, looking up at Jean.

“Not much to see. My mom doesn’t like visitors, anyway.” He lied.

“Oh, alright then.”

Jean was frustrated by how easily Armin had given up on the idea, but said nothing. “Where are we eating?” He asked. “Yours or Eren’s?”

“Eren’s,” Armin said, much to Jean’s disappointment. “I left some of my stuff there last night.”

“What, you two still sleep around each other’s apartments? How old are you? Ten?” He scoffed. 

“Well yeah, of course we do. It gets lonely. Since you got involved with all your gang stuff Eren and Grandpa are the only people I have. It makes sense that I would want to spend time with him.”

“What? How do you know about-” 

“It’s obvious. You’ve been looking shady and guilty for months. Something’s obviously going on.”

Jean glared at him. “It’s easy for you, though, so you can’t exactly judge me-”

“Who said I was judging you?” Armin said. “As long as you’re not hurting anyone, I don’t care.”

Anxiety flared in Jean’s chest, squeezing his insides. He almost had to double over with the pain of it. “Well I’m not, alright?” He said, far too forcefully. 

“Okay,” Armin said. 

Armin held the door for Jean when they reached the apartment building. Eren opened the door to them when they had reached his floor and Armin thanked him, panting slightly. The smell of coffee, bacon and eggs filled the air.

“I didn’t realise you were coming,” Eren said, looking at Jean.

Jean opened his mouth to speak, but Armin interrupted him. “I invited him,” he said. 

“Alright. There should be enough for you.”

The idea of leftover food was abstract to Jean but he tried his best to be grateful. Armin plated up their food, giving Jean much more than himself. He passed them their food, blushing, before escaping to Eren’s bedroom and shutting the door behind him so he could pack up his clothes.

“So how have you been?” Eren asked after a few minutes. His mouth was full of scrambled egg.

“Pretty great, yeah,” Jean said, eating as quickly as he could, “what about you? I see you and Armin still share a bed, right? Or do you sleep on the floor?” He added awkwardly, regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

“We don’t share a bed,” Eren laughed, “I sleep on the couch and Armin sleeps on my bed. You should see him when he’s asleep. It’s hilarious.”

“Why? What’s so funny about it?” Jean asked. 

“Well he-”

“I can hear you!” Armin shouted from the other side of the wall. He entered the living room again, a pile of clothes bundled up in his arms.

Eren laughed again, his green eyes shining with amusement. “Let me tell him, Armin,” he grinned. 

“No way,” Armin said, stuffing the clothes into his back and spooning eggs into his mouth.

“Armin talks in his sleep.”

“Eren!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Jean watched them. He was realising that he would never be as close to someone as they were to each other. His mother was too drunk or too hungover to care most of the time, and every person where he worked was hostile and glaring. He was sure that they all hated him.

“What kind of stuff does he say?” Jean asked, trying to distract himself from his loneliness.

Armin turned bright red and gave Eren a look which clearly read  _ don’t you dare. _

“I can’t say, I can’t,” Eren laughed, much to Eren’s relief. 

Jean felt awkward and he rubbed the back of his head again. He looked down at his plate, which still had a few rashers of bacon on it. 

“Here,” Armin said, passing him a piece of newspaper to wrap them up him. He was looking at Jean directly in the eyes, almost as if he knew he was saving them for his mother.

Jean looked away, embarrassed, but took the paper and wrapped the bacon. “Thank you,” he said, staring at the floor.

“That’s alright,” Armin smiled at him. From outside, rain began to drizzle and the day became darker. 

“I should probably go,” Jean said, picking up his things. “Thanks, Eren, Armin. I’ll see you.” 

“Don’t you want to stay for coffee?” Armin said, but Jean was already letting himself out, letting the door shut behind him. 

As the kettle began to boil, its shrill shriek filling the apartment, Armin couldn’t help but think that he knew that there was something seriously wrong with Jean, but he had no idea how to help. 


	4. To Kill

**May 2nd, 1935. Ochoco National Forest.**

“Mikasa!” 

“Yeah?”

“Come back a second. Take some of this,” Mikasa’s mother said, holding the front door nimbly open with her foot while she sliced Mikasa some bread. It had just come out of the oven, and carried with it a smell that made Mikasa’s stomach rumble with hunger. 

“Thanks, Mom,” Mikasa said, walking back a few paces to the house and taking the bread. Usually black coffee would be all she’d have for breakfast, but for some reason today was ravenous. 

“What time are you going to be home?” She asked, leaning against the door.

“Probably after lunch. Will Dad be up by then?” 

“If luck is on my side,” she said. “I think he’s still sulking because Erwin wouldn’t let him join in with his ranger duty.”

Mikasa laughed. “Poor Dad. Anyway, I’d better go.”

“Make sure you’re back for two o’clock, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, Mom.” Mikasa said, and she set off again, stretching as she walked. The clouds overhead were dark and soon rain began to fall, gently and softly, making pattering noises on the ground. Mikasa tied back her hair and felt the hairs on her arms rise as she walked and a cold breeze snake past her. The bread didn’t last long, and soon Mikasa was running. She wanted to swim in the lake and visit the hollow tree so that she could be alone with her thoughts; Mikasa’s mother had given her the whole day for herself. 

Her last letter from Eren had excited her to the point where she could hardly think of anything but seeing him. Meeting Eren had been the fabric of her daydreams for the past six years, but now that it was happening, she could hardly imagine what it would be like. 

_ I’ll let you know in my next letter the exact date I’ll be able to see you,  _ he had said,  _ because Dad’s not back yet and I need to ask him for the details. I’m sending you a surprise too! _

Mikasa was eager to collect it; if not at the hollow tree, Mikasa decided that she would run to the town to see if the letter was there. She took a shortcut to the lake, straying from the woodland path, and jumped over bushes and tree roots. As the trees passed she admired the way raindrops rolled down their budding leaves, pausing slightly before they fell to the ground as if they had a choice. The woods were the closest Mikasa had to a place that felt like home. The cherry blossoms on the trees reminded her of the pictures Armin had given her. These trees, unlike the Japanese ones, were painted on a backdrop of grey. Her feet pounded against the ground as she ran, causing birds to fly from their nests and woodland mice to retreat into the bushes. 

When she exited the forest the lake was suddenly ahead of her. The raindrops made ripples in the water, spreading outwards and disappearing, but not before new ones came. It was ringed with trees, completely obscured from an outsider’s view; if one didn’t know it was there, it would be almost impossible to find.  Even though she knew she didn’t need to, Mikasa looked around to check if anyone was there before shrugging her bag off her shoulders. She began taking off her clothes, shoving them into her bag with her towel. She quickly glanced at her watch; the time was 11.30 in the morning - she had plenty of time. Mikasa threw her back under the shelter of a tree and entered the lake. 

The water was freezing cold. Shivering, Mikasa did her best to ignore the icy feeling as it crawled up her legs and began swimming. She was slow at first, but soon sped up as adrenaline replaced the cold. She moved easily with the water, gliding through it. Her heart began pounding in her chest; she loved swimming like this. It was tough and made her limbs sore the next day, but in the lonely forest, swimming offered a distraction to her worries. She didn’t have to feel guilty for deceiving her parents, she didn’t have to think about what Erwin was training her for; she could be completely and solely herself. Eren was in her mind, as always; she thought of him swimming next to her, laughing, with Armin sitting on the shore reading while Jean bothered him. Her heart ached with the memory of them. What if they had moved on without her? What if, after all this time, they couldn’t recognise her for who she was? Worry started crawling through her and she started swimming faster, powering through the water, until she realised what she was doing, took a deep breath in, and slowed down.

Soon, the rain stopped and the clouds turned from a dark grey to white, though they still covered the whole sky. Mikasa stopped swimming and let herself float for a while, daydreaming. The burning cold had subsided to a quiet tingling and Mikasa, in the back of her mind, was dimly aware of it, though her thoughts were preoccupied. She wondered what the surprise in Eren’s letter would be. She hoped it would be something she could hide easily from her parents. 

She ran to her towel from the water thirty minutes later, pulling it quickly from her bag. Drying herself off, she watched for people in the forest surrounding her again.  _ It’s always better to check than be sorry,  _ she thought to herself, but the park was silent save from the rustling of leaves in the trees. 

Once dressed, Mikasa began her run to the hollow tree. She tied her roughly towel-dried hair up into a long ponytail and ran, gazy fondly at the large mountain range in the distance. She had climbed one every year with Erwin since she was twelve years old. It had been extremely difficult but the rewarding feeling Mikasa had felt when she reached the top and the view she had seen made every second worth it. She could see whole park from the peak of the mountains, to all of the surrounding towns, the other rangers’ houses. She had never spoken to another ranger before; as far as she knew, they were the only family staying in the park.

The clouds were darkening as Mikasa reached the hollow tree. It was empty - Mikasa sighed, almost despondent. She checked her watch. 1 o’clock.  _ I’ll make it home in time if I’m quick,  _ Mikasa said to herself, deciding to go and find Gelgar. The run was tiring and Mikasa found herself gasping for breath when she reached the town. Rain was brewing in the sky, waiting to fall to the ground at any moment. 

Mikasa had reached Gelgar’s house in twenty minutes and when she walked into the post office he looked at her confusedly.

“What are you doing here?” He slurred.

She could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Has a letter come through for me?” She asked.

“Yeah, but you already got your uncles to come get it for you, right?” The man said. Mikasa heard the first raindrops begin to fall onto the road.

“No… you were supposed to take it to the tree, like usual.”

“Well, that’s what I was  _ going  _ to do, until you told your uncles to pick it up.”

“Gelgar, I don’t  _ have  _ any uncles. You probably imagined it.” 

He laughed. “I do remember! They looked like you, and they had a car and everything. I told them the way to your house, too, they said they hadn’t visited before…” 

Mikasa was suddenly aware that her mouth was dry and her heart was pounding. “And they took the letter? When?” She said, her voice hollow.

“Yeah… about a half hour ago… why are you lookin’ at me like that?” He said, but Mikasa had already turned, bolting out of the shop and out into the pouring rain. “Mikasa! Did I say somethin’ wrong?” He called after her but she ignored him. 

She was soaked in a matter of seconds, but Mikasa paid no attention to the rain as she sprinted back home. She grabbed her watch from her bag and checked the time; she had half an hour before she was due home. Not that that mattered much to her now - who were these men? Dread and adrenaline pumped through her veins, making her run faster and panic more. Her mother’s words were all she could think of -  _ we made it out by the skin of our teeth. _

If these people had found them before, of course it was possible that they had done again. And this time, there was no Erwin to warn her of their arrival. The minutes ticked by and Mikasa ran as quickly as she could through the woods, jumping over the same bushes and tree roots she had earlier in the day, when the clouds hadn’t been as dark nor the rain as heavy.

_ Uncles.  _ Mikasa was sure she didn’t have any. Then why would they be there? Mikasa knew she had to assume the worst or she would be too late to do anything about the situation. Eventually her house came into view, as did a large black car. Mikasa hid behind a tree branch; through the window of her home, she could see two men. One was tall and the other was short, and they both had dark, straight hair. Mikasa guessed they had come from Japan, and her heart sank as she saw no sign of her mother or father through the window. There was a strong scent of burning stew in the air. 

Her mother never burned the stew. 

Her chest was tight; painfully so. Mikasa tried her hardest to calm her panicked breathing and tell herself everything was alright when she heard one of the men speak. He spoke in English, with a heavy accent, but Mikasa couldn’t distinguish the words he said over the rain. It definitely wasn’t safe to go through the front door; not at all. Realising a way to get into the house, Mikasa quickly scampered around the back of Erwin’s shed and stood with her back against it, looking directly at the tree she used to sneak out at night. Making sure she could not be seen, Mikasa climbed it as nimbly as she could, crawling along a tree branch and into her bedroom. It was a mess; it looked like it had been turned upside down by the two men. Her clothes lay scattered on the floor and her mattress had been upturned. Staring at it, she felt her heart sink. This was real. It must be them - those people they had been running from for all these years. Mikasa lay down on the floor and pressed her ear to the wooden boards. 

“-going to kill us.” One of the men said angrily.

“Why did you do that?” The other said; his voice was a slightly higher pitch. He sounded panicked and afraid. 

“She was going to kill me first!” 

Mikasa slapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. They had killed someone? Was that… her mother? Were they talking about her? She could still smell the burning stew. 

Footsteps; then men were moving. “What are we going to do now? You know Reiss wanted the woman alive. Where’s the girl?”

Tears were falling fast from Mikasa’s eyes. She couldn’t think straight, and tried to listen harder; but the rushing of blood through her ears deafened Mikasa to their words. She had to get closer. Was it safe to open the bedroom door? She wasn’t sure, but crawled towards it. Slowly rising to her feet, Mikasa turned the doorknob and pulled the door open a crack. 

There was no sign of her mother in the kitchen area. But she had a better view of the two men. The taller one had his back to her, and the slightly shorter one was peering out of a window. That was when she spotted the scarf. It was strewn on the kitchen table, next to an opened letter. Mikasa had to stop herself from gasping. It was the same scarf from six years ago - the scarf Eren had tried to give her as she left. It was a bright scarlet. Seeing it made Mikasa feel calmer slightly, more confident. She had to find her parents; she had to get downstairs. 

“I’m going to find the boy,” the shorter man said. The other still had his back to her. “You stay here in case the girl comes back. She’s the priority now.”

The taller one nodded and watched as he left. Mikasa was terrified. They were going after Eren and Mikasa had no way of stopping them - they had a car. And he was here today? She would never reach him in time. Mikasa fixed her eyes back on the tall man. He turned around slowly, looking at something in the part of downstairs Mikasa couldn’t see. When he turned, she got to see his face for the first time.

It was smeared with blood. 

Mikasa let out a quiet yelp and the man looked up immediately, spotting her through the crack in the door. Mikasa slammed the door shut and jumped straight out of the window as the man began running up the stairs. Mikasa grabbed a tree branch, catching herself as she fell. She swung from it, jumped, landed on the ground and began running around to the front of the house, trying desperately to find a weapon. She flung open the front door and grabbed the nearest thing she saw - a pair of knitting needles. They would do - Mikasa looked up to see the man running back down the stairs, a gun in his hands, but then her eyes caught sight of something. 

It was her mother and father; they lay on the ground, unmoving. Their eyes, still and glassy, stared at her, and Mikasa found herself being filled with a sudden wave of fury. She looked up at the man, who had just reached the bottom of the stairs. It was as if something inside of her had been switched on; she screamed at the man and ran towards him, hardly noticing the look of utter shock on his bloodstained face. He took a step back before trying to stop her. He pointed the gun at her and screamed for her to stop but she raised her hand, the knitting needles held firmly within her fist, and kicked him straight in the stomach. He doubled over, dropping the gun, and tried to grab her. Catching a fistful of her hair and pulling her closer, the man attempted to subdue Mikasa, but she leaned forward, rolling the man over her back. All of her training seemed to come together in a single moment when she jumped on top of him and stabbed him straight through the throat with the needles.

He stopped struggling almost straight away and began to gurgle as blood filled his mouth. Mikasa stared in astonishment at what she had done and vomited almost immediately, tuning her head to the side. He was dead. Remembering her parents, she ran over to them, falling to her knees.

Her mother’s bun had fallen out of place and her hair lay strewn around her head, matted with blood. Her hand was clasped around a bloody pair of scissors. A knife she didn’t recognise lay embedded in her chest and her father lay face down, a bullet wound in his back.

“Mom!” She screamed, shaking them violently. “Dad!”

They were both dead. Mikasa wailed, pleading for them to wake up. Was this her fault? How had they been found out. Mikasa felt guilty, so guilty it felt like her heart was being squeezed; why hadn’t she listened to her mother, taken her seriously? Why did she have to write to Eren-

Eren. He was in danger - in her flurry of rage, Mikasa had forgotten about the smaller man. She turned to the table, tears still falling from her eyes and grabbed the letter on the table. The blood on her fingers smeared onto the paper. 

Eren was waiting ten miles from where she was. If she left now, she would probably make it to Eren - on Saint, she could ride where the cars could not. But if she left now, this would be the last she saw of her home. She wouldn’t be able to come back, not now whoever was chasing them knew where they were. She had to go. 

Still crying, Mikasa gathered a bag of things and washed the blood from her hands and face. She kneeled next to her parents. She had rolled over her father, and his eyes stared into hers. 

“I’m sorry, Mom. Dad, please forgive me. I have to go.” She whispered, and kissed them both on the forehead. 

Mikasa took one last look at them and stood up. Before she left she took the knife from the man she had murdered, and threw the gun away. She didn’t want to fight with the weapon that had killed her father. She searched his body for anything that might help her, but found nothing. The scarf caught her attention again and she grabbed it. It was soft and when she wrapped it around herself she could smell Eren’s smell on it. It helped ease the vice-like grip on her, and then Mikasa walked out of her home, leaving her dead parents behind her. 

Saint waited in the stable. Erwin had taken his horse away with him. Mikasa wanted to go and find him, to tell someone about what had happened, but she didn’t think it would be safe to. She had no idea what kind of connections these men had, and she needed to find Eren.

She rode as fast as she could towards the town where Eren was. The soaking rain washed the rest of the blood from her hair, and Mikasa held the scarf tightly, praying blindly that when she reached Eren, he would not be dead too. 


	5. No Escape

_ “You cold?” Eren asks her, offering his coat. Even at seven years old he’s watching out for her. _

_ “I’m good.” Mikasa replies. They’re sat on the fire escape, cradling mugs of hot chocolate in their hands. It is something they do every night - without fail, if they can help it. From the sixth floor up, the people walking the streets look tiny. They walk with their collars turned up, arms crossed to keep the cold away.  _

Mikasa rode against the cold wind, struggling to see through the rain, the wind making her wet hair fly back from her face. Her memories from that night were so vivid; she clung to them, trying to live in that moment. Her scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck and tucked into her coat. Adrenaline had once again overcome her fear and Mikasa was riding faster than she had ever ridden before, jumping over fences in a desperate bid to reach Eren before the man in the black car did. 

Saint was running fast as Mikasa urged him to, leaning in closely to his mane. His coat was beginning to froth; he was sweating and tired. She was trying to listen out for the noise of a car in the distance but nothing could be heard over the pouring of rain hitting the road and crackles of thunder in the distance. Trees were passing in a blur. 

“Come on, Saint,” Mikasa said to him, “we’re gonna make it to him. Not much longer now.”

As Mikasa reached the top of a hill lights became visible about a mile ahead; it was the town. She was lucky she had even found it; she hadn’t been this far north in years. Mikasa’s heart was pounding with anticipation and still, anger; she had never been so furious in her whole life. But at the same time she felt as if she were somewhere else, on the fire escape, with Eren at her side. 

_ They’re eight years old now; it’s early summer, and the sun hasn’t yet set as they sit on the fire escape, laughing and joking with each other. It’s their place; Armin and Jean had never sat there with them and they never would. Mikasa watches as the steam from her cup swirls in the air before taking a sip, spitting it out as it burns her mouth. Eren laughs and asks if she’s alright, and Mikasa says yes. She’s laughing too, hot chocolate on her chin and down her blouse.  _

She was clinging to the memory to distract herself from the images flashing through her mind. If she stopped thinking of him she felt as if she would go insane, she’d lose it - and then she would lose Eren. That couldn’t happen. 

_ Her mother’s smiling face; her hair, pulled tightly back, perfect in its bun. Her father, cooking at the stove when she walked through the door, opening his arms to hug her.   _

The thought of her parents comforted Mikasa until her mind conjured the images of their dead bodies. Her mother’s hair, strewn around her head; her once-pristine blouse soaked with blood, scissors sticking out from her chest. The gaping bullet wound in her father’s back, his arms splayed out, and the look of anguish on both of their faces as their hollow, lifeless eyes stared into hers. She would never see them again, not the way she remembered them. Mikasa couldn’t get the sensation out of her head - the one she has felt as the knitting needles pierced her attacker’s skin slowly and passed through his throat. She could still feel the sudden lack of resistance that came when needles entered his windpipe and met air.

_ Shit, shit,  _ she thought to herself,  _ think of Eren, think of Eren, think of Ere- _

_ The way his eyes had sought her out, like a predator’s; sharp and unforgiving. The blood on his face, her mother’s blood, crimson against his dark hair. His large hand gripped around her hair, pulling her back into him. _

But that feeling, that feeling of anger, of elation; that feeling she had as she threw him off of her. It had been almost refreshing for a moment to fight and to win. It made her skin crawl.  _ Think of the fire escape,  _ she told herself, but the only thing she could picture was the handful of thick black hair in the man’s limp fist as he choked on his own blood.

When she reached the town Mikasa rode Saint furiously towards where Eren said he would meet her in the letter - at the back of the hotel. 

He wasn’t there. 

A black car, however, was. Mikasa jumped down from Saint and inspected its interior, but she could see nothing inside. Where was he? And where was the short man from before? Mikasa swallowed the panic rising in her throat and turned Saint around, leading him behind her. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon but the streets were bare due to the rain. It had lessened a little, and though Mikasa was soaked through, it wasn’t enough to wash away the blood on her clothes.

“Excuse me,” said a man in uniform, startling Mikasa. He was tall and broad, with wide shoulders and blond hair. Mikasa assumed he was the sheriff of the town, and looked at him dubiously.  “You know somethin’ about that car there? I’ve never seen it, or you, before.” He squinted at her, trying to look at her face more closely from under her hood. “Can you understand me?”

Mikasa opened her mouth to retort when she heard men shouting over the rain, and then-

_ BAM. _

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the entire town and Mikasa had jumped onto Saint and was galloping towards the noise before the sheriff could even think to stop her. He ran after her, pulling out his gun. People started coming out of their houses, their curiosity leading them into the rain.

“Eren!” Mikasa screamed, terrified of what might have happened to him. He had to be badly injured, bleeding, on the floor; he might even be dead already. Mikasa turned around a corner, panting for breath, and suddenly he was there, standing in the middle of an alleyway. The first thing that she noticed was how angry he looked. Then she noticed the gun, and the body. 

The gun in his hand, and the body lying at his feet. 

It was the shorter man, his face blown apart by the bullet. Mikasa just looked up at Eren, looked into his eyes, and they were wide and terrified, but so green. He looked nothing like she had imagined him to; his hair was longer, his jaw was wider. 

“Mikasa,” he said, staring at her as if her appearance would give him an answer as to what was going on. And then the police officer started shouting.

“Get down!” He screamed at Eren over the rain, horrified by the sight of what was once the shorter man’s face. The rainwater ran red with his blood, pooling in the hole where his face should have been and dribbling out onto the ground. 

Mikasa was between them in seconds, her knife drawn. 

“Mikasa, what are you doing?” Eren asked her, terror in his voice. His hands, gripped around the gun, were shaking furiously.  

“Get on!” She shouted, and Eren hoisted himself onto the horse. 

“I said get down! You’re under arrest!” The police officer was shaking too and he outstretched his arm. People had begun crowding into the alleyway, horrified at the sight. They started to shout at Eren and Mikasa, calling them murderers. Mikasa had no idea what she supposed to do. What if the people chasing her had connections with the police? It wasn’t as if she could turn herself in. But Eren was here - he was alive, she had found him, he was safe. 

For now. 

The officer was approaching them slowly. He didn’t look like he wanted to shoot - Mikasa guessed that he’d never had to deal with anything for more than minor scuffles - but she didn’t want to assume he wouldn’t. A plan began to blossom.

“Pretend to put your hands down,” Mikasa whispered to him, her heart pounding furiously. “And slip me the gun.”

Eren looked at her like he had no idea who she was. But he did it.

“Good.” The man said, approaching them. Mikasa closed her fingers around the cold metal. “Now I want to know what’s going on here. You’re going to come back with me.” 

“What are you doing?” Eren whispered to her. His voice was so much deeper than she remembered it to be. 

The moment the officer lowered his gun Mikasa pointed the gun at his foot and shot several times, hoping that she had hit and hoping that she hadn’t; and then she grabbed Saint by the reins and began galloping away, straight through the crowd of people and out of the alley.

She heard his piercing scream and several bullets being fired. Eren’s arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. His presence helped her to carry on.

“Mikasa, I- I didn’t mean to kill him, I just-”

“We don’t have time to think about this now, Eren, we need to get somewhere safe! It’s the people,” she was gasping for breath, “the people that were chasing us, I don’t know who they are but they killed my parents and they tried to take me with them-”

“Your mom and dad? They’ve killed them? Your parents?” 

“Yes,” Mikasa could feel a lump rising in her throat. “I don’t know how they found us but they’re trying to capture me and I have to find somewhere safe to go right now or I’m going to die, okay?”

“Fuck. Okay, just - just let me think if I passed anything on the way here. You don’t know this area at all?” He asked her frantically.

“No, I’ve barely been out of the park since we got here, I don’t where to go,” her voice was rising in panic. “Where’s your dad? Can’t we go to him?”

“I don’t remember where he was going,” Eren said. “He carried on for work, I was going to make my own way back to New York. We could try and go there and then go back to your house in the night when it’s safe or somet-”

“I can’t,” Mikasa said, choking back tears. “They’ll be waiting for me.”

Eren was silent for a second. Mikasa took in a deep breath.

“Wait… is that a car?” There was a distant sound of an engine over the rain.

“Fuck,” Eren said. “We need to go faster! They’ll catch up to us in no time,”

Mikasa felt herself begin to panic more than ever; there was a tight wad of nerves in the pit of her stomach and she could feel a stabbing pain in her chest. Her breathing was shallow and too fast. She tried to splutter out words to him, but they were lost. Her mind was racing.  _ If they catch us, what would happen? What would they do to Eren? Would they kill him? _

“Mikasa! You need to calm down! Breathe normally and we’ll be alright, okay?” Eren said, taking one hand from her waist and placing it over hers. 

The pain lessened slightly and she was able to speak again. Eren’s hand felt comforting over hers. “That’s the car from before - it’s not the police. It’s them,” she said, the words causing a resurgence of panic in her chest

“They might not be able to see as well as us in this rain,” Eren said. “I’m sure we can get away!”

 

Mikasa could hardly hear him; a blanket of calm had fallen over her. Was it calm? Mikasa wasn’t sure she was feeling anything at all. It was like a numbness, as if every emotion competing for her attention had all of a sudden dulled, giving up. The noise of the rain had lessened too, and she wasn’t as cold - but her eyes were focused sharply on the road ahead, and she pushed Saint to ride faster.

“I’m going to ride as fast as I can until we find somewhere to hide!” She shouted to Eren.

“Are you sure that’s going to work?” Eren yelled back, oblivious to the change of tone in her voice. He too was desperately trying to come up with a plan. 

“Have we got any other options?” Mikasa turned around to look at him.

“There!” Eren shouted, pointing. Mikasa turned around to see what he was talking about. In the distance was an old and rickety barn. Ivy grew up its walls and there were holes in the roof. It was surrounded by fields of crops and a wooden fence guarded its perimeter. Mikasa spotted a side gate they could get in through. Perfect.

As the gate to the approached, Mikasa pulled back on the reins and slowed Saint down before jumping off of him and running to open it. Once they were inside she shut it, jumped back on Saint and rode quickly through long grass to the barn. 

Once they were inside, Saint almost collapsed. His legs buckled out from beneath him and Mikasa grabbed his reins, led him to a pile of damp hay, and lay him down. Besides from the hay and a few buckets, the barn was empty. The whole barn was illuminated briefly as the black car passed by. Mikasa held her breath, praying that it would keep going and not stop to search the barn. When the car had turned the corner she let it out, long and shaking.

“Mikasa,” Eren said to her, placing his hand on the small of her back. “You need to sit down.”

“Yeah,” she said, slightly dazed. Shock was finally kicking in. “Okay.”

Eren looked at her. Her head was rested on Saint, her eyes closed. Her hair was longer than it had been when she left; it reached her elbows. It was sopping wet, and only a tiny bit of blood remained in it. Her hands and clothes, though, were covered. Blisters had formed on her hands from where she had been gripping the reins. Her expression was vacant. Why wasn’t she crying? When Eren’s mother died, he’d cried for weeks.

Mikasa sat up, leaning on her elbows for support. “I’m not going to stop until I find out what’s going on.”

“What?” Eren asked incredulously. “How are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know,” she said, staring at her feet. 

“No matter what, we’re together now, okay?” He looked straight at her.

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

They were silent for several moments, simply looking at each other. Neither really knew what to say to the other; how were they supposed to be comforting when there was nothing comforting to be said? They had both just killed people - they were terrified, they had blood on their hands, and they were alone in a barn with no idea where to go or what to do. 

“Eren?” Mikasa said eventually.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about New York.”

He smiled and stood up. “Okay,” he said, extending his arm to help her up, “but come up here with me first.”

He didn’t let go of her hand as he led her up a shaky set of wooden stairs to the platform where spare hay was stored. Eren threw the damp hay to the floor below and lay on the rest, staring up at the sky through a hole in the ceiling. The rain had stopped, and the sky had started to clear. Mikasa lay down beside him, looking at a small patch of sunset visible in the cloudless part of the sky. She breathed in and felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her; Eren smelled like home. 

Eren rolled on his side to face her, and smiled, reaching out to touch the scarf around her neck. 

“I’m so glad you have this.” He said. 

“So am I.” 

A pause.

“You wanted me to tell you about New York then, right?” 

She smiled at him. The night was approaching and the sky was darkening quickly. “Yeah.” 

“Well,” Eren searched for something good to tell her. “I don’t know if he told you in the letters, but Armin’s doing really well with his languages. I can hear him practising at night sometimes. Oh,” he laughed, “Mrs Peters down the street keeps asking when you’re coming home. And Lucy from next door had a baby.”

“What about Armin’s parents?”

Eren sighed. “They’re never home. That’s why we’re living together, really.”

“And Jean?”

“He came over the other day for breakfast actually. He seemed a little shifty around us. I think he’s up to some pretty shady stuff, but I don’t know what.”

“Is he still living with his mom?” 

“Yeah, I think so. I’m pretty sure Armin went there the other day. Me and Armin went to that food wagon where we got those potato chips on your birthday, remember that? It moved so it took forever to find, but it was worth it. I can’t believe it’s still open.”

“Thank you,” Mikasa said after a pause.

“Huh? What for?” Eren asked.

“Not forgetting about me.” She said quietly.

Eren laughed. “As if,” he said. 

It was getting colder as evening turned to night, and Mikasa found her eyes closing. It wasn’t until she was able to stop moving that she realised how much her limbs ached. 

Eren didn’t notice that she had fallen asleep until he heard her breathing slow down. He looked at her with a fondness only separation can give and breathed in the smell of her. God, she was so brave. 

He didn’t know what he was going to do to get them out of this mess. He felt selfish for it, but learning that Mikasa had lost her parents made him miss his mother even more. He had forgotten how painful grief was after living with it for so long. But here it was again, sharp and unrelenting. He grieved for Mr and Mrs Jones, Mikasa’s parents; he grieved for his mother; and he grieved for the Mikasa he had once known, the Mikasa with a smile on her face and innocence in her heart.


	6. Jean and Yona

Six days had passed since Eren left New York to find Mikasa. Armin figured that it would take about that long to get there - they were taking the bus, and travelling across the entire country took a long time. 

_ He’d better not get caught by her parents, _ Armin thought. It seemed like the kind of ridiculously stupid thing Eren would get himself thrown into. For a day or so Armin had been bitter, wishing that he could have gone with Eren, but after a while of thinking he had come to terms with the fact that his grandfather needed his help and there was nothing he could do about it. He gazed at the various cookbooks and trinkets lining the shelves of their cluttered kitchen, wondering where each had come from and what its story might be. Would Eren bring him back something? He hoped so.

Armin sighed, stirring the oats around in the pan. He was making oatmeal for his grandfather - it was one of the only things the old man liked to eat. Armin didn’t enjoy oatmeal at all, but his grandfather did, so that was what he made. In honesty, Armin hadn’t been eating much at all since Eren had gone; usually Eren would be there to interrupt him from whatever book he was reading and remind him of mealtimes.

Armin hadn’t even seen Jean since the day they had shared breakfast at Eren’s. At the thought of what he might be up to, Armin’s heart began pounding with worry. This stupid gang or whatever it was that he was a part of seemed dangerous. What if something went wrong and he hurt himself? What if he went to jail? Stop being a baby, he chastised himself, wishing he wasn’t so prone to anxiety. Maybe he would go to Jean’s house later today. If Jean wasn’t there, Armin would ask his mom.

“Armin?”

“Yeah?” Armin leaned in through the doorway of the kitchen. His grandfather was sat in the chair he was almost always sat in - a large, comfortable seat with a patchwork blanket covering the back. 

“Is that oatmeal going to be ready soon?” He asked.

“It’s almost done. Do you want anything else with it? Coffee?” Armin was constantly worried that his level of care wasn’t enough for his grandfather.

“Yeah, that sounds pretty good. Thanks, Armin.”

“Ah, don’t,” Armin said. “It’s alright. Want to start another game of chess or something later?”

“Not right now. I think I might have a couple of hours of sleep after my food,” the man said, “but when I get up again then I will. I might even let you win this time,” he smiled.

“How do you know I haven’t been letting you win?” Armin called from the kitchen. He had read a couple of books on chess and he was good - far better than Eren, but never good enough to beat his grandfather. Armin was in constant awe of the man - he was the best chess player Armin had ever seen, despite being blind. Somehow, Armin’s grandfather was able to remember every coordinate Armin told him and play with the visuals of the pieces in his mind.

“I could be deaf  _ and _ blind and you still wouldn’t beat me!” Armin heard the old man laugh from the other room. He poured the oatmeal into its bowl. Letting it cool, Armin lit the stove again and put some water on to boil for the coffee. Armin hadn’t had anything other than coffee and water in the last day or so. He knew that Eren would be angry if he found out - but he wouldn’t. Besides, he thought to himself, what did it matter? He’d eat when he was hungry.

When the kettle boiled Armin brought in his grandfather’s breakfast on a tray and set it down on his lap. Armin guided his grandfather’s hand towards the spoon and helped him eat. Caring for a blind man was hard and tiring - at times, he hated it. But he knew that he would be devastated when his grandfather was gone, so Armin tried to savour the time they had together and learn as much as he could from him. Even though his body was wearing away, Armin’s grandfather still had his mind, and his memories.

Twenty minutes later he was asleep in his chair. Armin glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen in the morning. So early to be going back to sleep already. He sighed and got up, taking the dirty bowl and cups to wash in the kitchen. It was in moments like this that Armin needed to go and see Eren - he missed him. 

When he left the apartment Armin shut the door quietly. He hoped that his grandfather would remain asleep until he got back, so he hurried down the stairs and out of the building. He looked almost wistfully at the windows of his and Eren’s apartment as he passed its building and down the street.

Though he had had more of a friendship with Jean than the others, part of Armin had always been jealous that Eren and Mikasa spent more time together, even now. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was true - Armin just couldn’t help but think that Mikasa and Eren enjoyed themselves more when he wasn’t in their company.

This consumed his mind on the walk to Jean’s apartment - he didn’t even notice when he heard Jean calling his name.

“Hey, loser,” Armin only noticed Jean when he came right up to him. “Woah. You look like shit.”

“Why thanks,” Armin said, trying to disguise his hurt with sarcasm. “You don’t look too great either.”

It wasn’t a lie - Jean still looked as tired as the last time Armin had seen him. Though Armin noticed that the clothes he was wearing looked new.

“Ah come on,” Jean said, falling into step with Armin, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything like that - you’ve still got that girly charm and all. You just look tired as hell. You been sleeping?”

“Not really.” Armin shrugged. “Thanks for the concern, though. I’m so glad I’ve managed to uphold the whole twelve-year-old girl look. You look pretty tired too though.”

“Can’t sleep without Eren next to you, eh?” Jean laughed, ignoring the last part of what Armin had said.

“Fuck off, Jean.”

“Wow, that took even less time than I expected. Especially as I see no other reason for you to be down here other than to come and see me.”

“Yeah, well you can get pretty irritating when you’re being hypocritical.”

“I can always tell when you’re angry,” Jean laughed, “because you start using big words and you get all pouty.”

Armin was silent. He was trying to stay angry, but a part of him was so reassured by the fact that there was someone his age he could talk to that it was hard to be mad. Even when Jean was so relentlessly infuriating.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. What’s up then?” Jean finally said.

“It’s nothing actually that important,” Armin said, “it’s just that it’s been pretty lonely around here since Eren went off to find Mikasa and you’ve not been showing your face around anymore.”

Jean looked at Armin, surprised. “Yeah, well, I’ve got stuff to do. I don’t have loads of time these days. Plus none of you ever acted like you actually wanted me there, so don’t go saying it’s my fault.”

“I did,” Armin said, hurt. “Just because Eren could be a bit of an ass it didn’t mean I wanted you to just stop hanging out with us. Anyway, he’s off trying his luck with Mikasa in the woods no doubt, so I don’t see a reason for you to not come around.”

“You don’t actually think he would have the guts to do it, do you?” Jean laughed.

“He talked about it enough. Ten bucks says he comes back having kissed her.”

“Alright, you’re on,” Jean said. “Never had you down as the betting type, Armin. Are you feeling alright?”

Armin laughed as well. “You’re an idiot.”

There was a pause. “So what are we doing then?” Jean asked. “We can go out for food if you want. I’ve got enough money for the both of us.”

“Eh, I’m not feeling it. Do you want to come back to mine?”

“Your parents’ place?” Jean was mildly disappointed by Armin’s refusal, but Armin had never been one to be impressed by money. 

“No, my grandfather’s. I need to check on him anyway, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Jean had become vaguely uncomfortable at the thought of meeting Armin’s grandfather - he had heard a lot about him, but in all the years he and Armin had spent together, they had never met. Jean had always felt as if he was too much of a nuisance to meet someone like that. He was nervous.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. How far is it from here?”

“Where are we exactly?” Armin checked a street sign. “Okay, about a half hour walk. You want to cut through the park on the way?”

“Let’s go later. I’m getting way too hot.”

“Okay,” Armin smiled.

It was turning out to be a boiling day - perhaps the hottest of the year so far - but the sun only illuminated what was broken about the city. Every crack in the pavement, every broken window, every shard of smashed beer bottles littering the road. It was a grey, grey city, but Armin felt content as he walked down its streets, because for the first time in almost a week he was talking to someone that wasn’t himself or his grandfather.

As they walked, Jean cast glances over at Armin, trying to work out what seemed different about Armin. Was he thinner? What was wrong? Sure, Eren was gone, but he’d be back -  _ shit _ , he suddenly thought. Shit.

It was almost as if he had forgotten the whole reason he had been avoiding Armin in the first place.  _ Mikasa.  _ How had it not crossed his mind? In the weeks that had passed, and the money he had earned, he had pushed the thought of her into the back of his mind. What if Eren got caught up in whatever was going on? Armin would never forgive him.

“Is something wrong?” Armin asked him.  _ He looks so tired,  _ Jean thought. His hair was growing wildly; his fringe nearly covered up his glasses. He had to keep pushing it back - every time he did, Jean couldn’t help but notice how much skinnier his arms were. 

“No,” Jean said, running his hands through his hair. “You just need a haircut.”

It was best not to tell him. Jean knew what Armin was like - he would freak out, over worry.

“Yeah, well, the barber’s makes me nervous.”

“I’ll do it if you want. Call it payment for that breakfast the other day.”

“You can cut hair?”

“I can cut girls’ hair. I do my mom’s. She taught me how like years ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You gonna make a big deal out of it?”

“No! I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jean said. “Are we nearly there now?” 

“Yeah, just there,” Armin pointed as they turned a corner. “Right opposite Eren and Mikasa’s.”

“Why d’you still call it that?” 

“What?”

“Eren and Mikasa’s. I mean, it’s not like she’s coming back.” Jean was walking on a tightrope, trying to reassure Armin without letting him know anything.

“She might,” Armin said. “I would love it if she did, anyway. In her letters she said she wanted to. Haven’t had one in while though. She’s probably busy with Eren.”

“You’re so jealous, get a grip,” Jean said. “Wait. Don’t tell me you liked her or anything, Arlert.” He laughed, but he was nervous - his heart was pounding.

“I thought we’d just said, it was Eren that liked her,” Armin said. “I mean, not that I don’t  _ like  _ her, it’s just I’m not looking for a girl or anything like that.”

“I could have told you that,” Jean said. They were walking up the stairwell now.

“What about you?” Armin turned to him and asked. 

Jean squirmed. “Nothing serious.”

“Nice,” Armin said sarcastically. “Playing with people’s feelings has always been a good one of yours.”

Jean shrugged. “What can I say? She’s cute.”

Armin scoffed at him. 

In truth, Jean didn’t like her that much. Though she certainly was cute. He’d only seen her a couple of times - she hung around with some of the guys he worked for.

“You want anything?” Armin said, distracting Jean as he opened the front door. 

“What?” Jean said. He had just noticed the picture frames lining the walls and the shelves filled with books and little artifacts from Armin’s grandfather’s travels. 

“I said do you want something? A drink?”

“Oh, right. I’m good thanks,” he said, peering at a set of Russian dolls. “This junk is pretty weird.”

“It’s not junk,” Armin said. “They’re all things my grandfather collected when he used to travel. It’s what I want to do.”

“When are you going to do that?” 

Armin shrugged. “No clue. I’m here for the foreseeable future anyway.”

“‘Cause of your grandad?”

“Yeah.” Armin said, peering into the sitting room. “He’s still asleep. Good.”

Armin walked down the hall and into his bedroom. It was quite big, much bigger than Jean’s. There was a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed and open books on his desk. Armin picked one of them up and flicked through the pages. It was a book on various precious artifacts he had started reading a few days ago.

Jean sat down on the bed and kicked his shoes off. “Why can’t your parents look after your grandad, then?” He asked. “So you can go and travel or whatever?”

“Because I have no idea where they are half the time.” Armin said. “They travel too. Do conservation work, stuff like that. I’ve pretty much always lived here anyway. It’s closer to Eren’s. And I’m still too young really.”

“That sucks.”

“It’s not too bad.” He smiled. “I’ll get to leave the city someday.” 

“So where did your grandfather travel then?”

“All over the place. Europe, Asia, even some parts of Africa. And all around America. There so much to see just in our country. Like where Mikasa is. It must be beautiful there.” 

Jean saw the way Armin’s eyes lit up when he talked about travelling. It made him almost jealous. Armin didn’t know, obviously, but they were in the same situation - they were both trapped in a city caring for sick relatives. But at least Armin had dreams. Jean had no idea what he wanted to do. 

“So you haven’t heard anything from her? Mikasa?”

“No, nothing. She’s probably just excited to see Eren though.” Armin said. “It makes me feel guilty almost, feeling lonely like this. I guess that’s what she’s been feeling for six years.”

“Yeah,” Jean said. The pain in his stomach was back. “But she’s alright though. She’s got her parents, right? They were pretty nice.”

“Yeah, they are,” Armin said. “Anyway. What do you want to do?”

“I thought I was going to sort your hair out? It’s a state.” Jean was desperate for anything that could take his mind off of Mikasa and stop him from feeling guilty enough to confess everything to Armin. 

Armin pushed back his fringe. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“You can barely see!” Jean said. “Look, I’ll just do the fringe a little bit. It won’t even take five minutes.”

“Are you sure?” Armin asked. “You’re not going to make me look like an idiot, are you?”

“You don’t need me for that.”

“Fuck off. There are some scissors in the desk drawer.”

Jean laughed again and grabbed the scissors. In truth, he wasn’t that good at cutting hair, but how hard could it be? He’d helped his mother with her hair a few times when she was sober and her hands shook too badly to cut in a straight line, but he’s never done it to anyone else.  _ Fuck it,  _ he thought, and positioned himself in front of Armin, who was sat on the bed. His hands were still shaking slightly from the nervousness in his gut but he tried to ignore it. Armin took off his glasses and set them down on his bedside table. 

Jean was nervous he’d do it wrong so he cut Armin’s fringe in the most logical way he could. Armin felt a little odd with someone this close to his face and tried to ignore the fact that he’d caught the scent of alcohol on Jean when he’d leaned over. He could feel his hair falling into his lap. It was an odd sensation - he rarely got his hair cut. 

“Okay, I think I’m done.” Jean said after well over five minutes. He brushed the hair on Armin’s lap into the trash.

Armin stood up and walked to the bathroom. Jean followed him nervously. “It’s good,” Armin said, studying his reflection. “Thanks.” He smiled.

“Don’t mention it,” Jean said, relieved that he had managed to do a good enough job. “You look much better now that I can actually see your face.”

Armin smiled and started tidying up his clothes. “Maybe you should get a job as a hairdresser,” he said.

“I already have a job.”

Armin raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Jean said. “I’m not quitting. I’ve already made a small fortune.”

“Oh yeah? What d’you do for that?”

“Can’t tell you. What’s the plan now, then?” Jean asked, trying to change the subject. “I’m getting kind of hungry.”

“I can make us something something to eat if you want. Poached eggs and toast?”

“Sure, alright. Thanks.”

Armin disappeared, leaving Jean alone in his room until he came back with lunch. In a room as cluttered at this one, Jean could barely help but explore a little. He put the scissors back in the drawer he got them from and peered at the rest of its contents. Old drawings, torn out notebook pages, even tickets from baseball games. Jean rifled through them until he found the ones from the day Mikasa had left. It had been such a good day. He smiled at the thought of it. Maybe the people that he had told about Mikasa would bring her back, and they’d all be fine and happy together.  

He stared wistfully at the little piece of paper until Armin came back, balancing two plates and two cups of coffee on a tray. 

“I hope this is alright,” Armin said. “Sorry I took so long, my grandad woke up. He wants to meet you actually. What are you looking at?”

“This looks great, thanks.” Jean said, and passed him the ticket. “Remember this?”

“How could I have forgotten? It’s Mikasa’s birthday. The day she left.”

“Remember how good our little money making scheme was?” Jean said. “We made a fortune that day.”

“As far as I remember, that was all you,” Armin laughed, taking a bite of toast. “Ah, this is pretty good actually. Hey, you want to go take a walk through the park in a bit?”

“Sure,” Jean said, his mouth full of food. 

Armin could see the sun shining brightly through his window. “It looks really nice out there.”

Jean stretched and yawned. “Hot weather makes me tired,” he said. 

“I’ve never met anyone who can complain as much as you,” Armin said. “It’s pretty impressive.”

“You’re so funny,” Jean said sarcastically. 

Armin grinned at him. “I need to check on my grandad quickly,” he said. “You coming?”

“Sure.” Jean said confidently, but he was nervous. 

Armin led Jean into the living room where Armin’s grandfather was setting up a chessboard. 

“I thought he was blind?” Jean whispered.

“I am,” said the old man, “and just because I can’t see it doesn’t mean I can’t hear. I take it this is Jean, Armin?”

“Yeah, it is,” Armin laughed at Jean’s horrified expression. 

“I didn’t mean to offend-” 

The man laughed. “It’s alright,” he said. “Fancy that game now, Armin?” 

“Jean and I were just about to head out, actually. How about after that?”

“Okay then.”

“You want anything?” 

“No, no, I’m alright. You go on out while the weather’s good.”

“Sure?”

“Armin, go outside. God knows you could use it.”

Jean laughed and they said their goodbyes. Outside it was even hotter than before - the sun was shining in the sky, without a single cloud to interrupt it. Jean bought them ice creams from a street vendor and they sat in the park, watching as the day passed. It was the first time in a long time that so many people had been on the streets enjoying themselves, even in a relatively rich area of the city. Children played on the grass, throwing balls to each other and running around, and birds tweeted from the trees. 

Jean lay back and stretched out. “This is the life,” he said, taking a bite of ice cream.

“You know, this is actually pretty nice,” Armin said. The sun was on his face. He was spending time with Jean and they were growing closer - it was a good feeling. 

“Of course it is.” Jean grinned. “It’s me, you know.”

He laughed and they fell into silence. 

“Jean,” Armin said, suddenly serious. He turned to face him.

“What is it?” 

“Promise me you won’t get into something really stupid? I know you’ll be careful and all that but I’m just worried you’ll get into something you’ll regret. Something you won’t be able to control.”

Jean looked at him.  _ He’s too smart for his own good,  _ he thought. Then he laughed. 

“Don’t be stupid, Armin.” He said. “I’m fine. I know how to play this just right.”

Armin looked at him skeptically.

“I do!” Jean insisted. “You don’t need to worry about me. Though it is sweet. You’ll make a great wife someday, you know?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Armin said, and then paused. “Wait. Is that a car?” 

Jean squinted into the distance. There was a black car heading towards them. “Do you know who it is?” Armin asked. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jean said, but he was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of a girl yelling. 

“Jeaaaaan!” She said, her head poking out of the window of the car. “There you are! We’ve been searching everywhere for you!” 

“Shit,” Jean muttered under his breath. 

When the car stopped the girl jumped out of the car, ran out towards Jean, and flung her around around him. “There you are!” She said, grinning happily. 

Armin looked at her. She was short, a little shorter than him. She looked Asian, and her accent confirmed Armin’s guess. Her hair was black and reached her shoulders. She looked barely fifteen.

“Hey, Yona,” Jean said, smiling at her and then looking at Armin apologetically. 

“Jean, you need to come with us! My dad said he had a job for you to do!” Her voice made Jean’s ears hurt.

“I can’t really, now, Yona,” Jean said. 

Armin looked at him with a look that said  _ stay.  _

“But Jeaan!” She whined. “You have to!” She stood on her tiptoes and whispered something in his ear. 

“Shit,” Jean said again. He had turned a ghostly white. “Okay, I’ll come. Armin, I’m sorry, I’ll be back later, alright?”

“What is it?” Armin asked. 

“I… I can’t tell you. I have to go,” Jean said, following Yona to the car. 

“What? Why not?” 

“I just can’t. I’ll see you later.” 

Yona pulled Jean into the car and gave Armin a smug smile as she kissed him. Armin watched as the car drove away, partially unsure of what just happened. He suddenly felt sick - he threw his cone into the trash and walked home quickly, pulling his shirt around him tightly. He was furious. Had Jean been lying to him about how serious this was? 

He hoped chess would take his mind off of it. 


	7. Blackberries

**May 3rd, 1935. 15 miles south from Wishram, Washington.**

When Eren woke up the night sky was still dark and starry. He had been awoken by a kind of rattling noise, something hitting the boards. He at first had thought it was some kind of small animal that had come to join them in the hay but when he turned to his left he saw that it was Mikasa. Half asleep, dreary, he tried to wake her, but it did no good. She was shaking uncontrollably in her sleep and Eren didn’t know what to do. He thought she might have been cold and placed his coat, now dry, over her - but the shaking didn’t stop. Her breathing was shallow and rapid. 

“Mikasa,” he whispered frantically. “Wake up.”

But only mumbles came from her - Eren guessed that she was in some kind of horrible nightmare. His dreams too had been filled with images of the man he had shot and the sight of his head splattered onto the road. He knew what Mikasa was dreaming was probably worse.

Mikasa’s hair was tangled and her skin was a ghostly white. Her eyes flickered. Her whole body shook. Eren lay down next to her tentatively and placed an arm on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. It didn’t work. He got under the coat with her and put one arm around her, the other moving from her shoulder to touch her hair. He had dreamed of lying next to her like this. Well, not like this. He had imagined that they would be in someplace a lot nicer than this - a place without hay for bedding and holes in the roof - and he hadn’t imagined that Mikasa would be shaking in his arms. It’d be funny if this wasn’t so real, he thought, and laughed quietly as tears began to fall from his eyes. What had gone so wrong? Why was this happening?

He cried quietly, thinking of the man whose life he had taken. What if he had a family? Eren pulled Mikasa closer to him, not only for her comfort but for his. He still couldn’t believe that she was here, that he with her. As the shaking continued Mikasa began to utter things, low and frantic. Eren couldn’t make out any words, but he smoothed down her hair and whispered into her ear.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice from wobbling. “Mikasa, you hear me? I’m going to sort this all out for you, okay?”

After several minutes she began to calm down a little; the muttering stopped and the shaking became less violent. Eren’s arms were wrapped tightly around her. How glad he was to be by her side when she had nobody else left. 

“Eren?” 

Mikasa’s eyes were half open; she was dreary.

“Hey,” Eren said. “You should go back to sleep.”

She studied his face for a few seconds. “It’s actually you?” She muttered.

Eren laughed. “Of course it is,” he said. “Of course it’s me.”

Mikasa smiled and moved over slightly to lean her head on Eren’s shoulder. Her hand slipped into Eren’s. He could feel the blisters on her palm, the rough and callous parts. But her fingers were soft, and they held his hand tightly. She breathed deeply.

*****

Hours later, when Eren awoke for the second time, they were curled up in the same way - neither of them had moved. In the blurriness of morning, it had taken several seconds for Eren to remember what had happened in the middle of the night. Mikasa was still sleeping peacefully, her head slowly bobbing up and down as Eren breathed. Eren didn’t want to wake her, but his back ached from sleeping on an uncomfortable floor, and he needed to stretch his legs after remaining in the same position for so many hours. Slowly, he took his hand from hers, replaced his shoulder with a ball of hay and let Mikasa continue sleeping. He left his coat on her - it was a warm morning. She needed it more. 

As he began to climb down the ladder Eren took one final look at Mikasa. Now that the air had had time to settle he was really able to notice the change in her. Her eyes were narrower, her hair longer. He had noticed when she took off her coat that her arms and back were muscular, far more muscular than any other guy their age.

Eren left the barn as quietly as he could, grabbing a few buckets to collect water in. Saint was up - he watched Eren as he made his way into the warm sunshine of morning. The storm had long since passed. Eren scanned the field quickly for a stream or some source of water - they would need something to drink soon if the sun didn’t let up. He couldn’t see anything. Eren cast a fleeting glance towards the barn before he started jogging. He knew he should have woken Mikasa before going off for something to drink but seeing her lie there so peacefully - he just couldn’t wake her. Not with the memories she would wake up to. I won’t go far, he thought as he jogged to the fence. There has to be a stream around here somewhere. 

Eren stood on the fence, trying to get a better view. It was an odd sight for him - to see fields and fields of green stretching into the distance instead of the tall grey blocks of New York. The field with the barn wasn’t a crop field, but the one overlooked like it was growing berries of some kind, and then, further on - a stream. Perfect. To his right, barely a speck, were the farm buildings. He thought they were a safe enough distance away to not get caught - at least, not for a couple days. Eren jumped down from the fence and began running towards the field of berries, the buckets in his hands clanging together. 

It took him about ten minutes to reach the field. He hopped the fence. Rows and rows of blackberry bushes were ahead of him, as far as the eye could see. Immediately Eren began picking berries from the plants and popping them into his mouth. They were sweet and juicy. His stomach rumbled for more - he hadn’t realised how hungry he had been until he began eating. He never took too many from one plant so as to not raise suspicion from the farmer if he came to check, and soon the bucket got fuller and fuller as berry after berry went in. His hands were stinging and bleeding a little from where the prickles of the plant had cut him, but he hardly cared. He was just anxious to get back to Mikasa.

On his way to the stream, Eren got a little lost, but he found his way soon enough. Eren admired the stream when he reached it - it was bright blue and sparkling as the sunlight hit it. Tiny fish darted past, swimming quickly with the flow of the water. He drank from his hands at first and then filled the bucket for Mikasa. 

Eren’s journey back was slower; he couldn’t run or the water and berries would spill from the buckets and there would be nothing for Mikasa. He hoped desperately that she would still be asleep when he got back. He would wake her up with more berries than she could eat and a big drink of water and they would talk of the countryside and then of New York - anything to take Mikasa’s mind off of what had happened the day before. If Eren was honest, he needed distracting too. 

His mind drifted to what had happened to him.

“Where is the girl!?” The Japanese man had shouted. “You know where she is? You hiding her?”

“W-who, Mikasa?” Eren had spluttered. “Hey, put the gun down, man!”

“The Ackerman girl!” 

Ackerman. What did that mean? Was it a name?

Eren had kicked the gun from the man’s hand and shot him with it as the man jumped towards him. He hadn’t even thought twice - it happened so quickly that it was if the gun had fired itself. Eren didn’t remember aiming for the man, didn’t remember pulling the trigger.; it all just happened with a flash and a loud crack and suddenly the man was on the floor, his entire face caved in. Then, moments later, Mikasa had appeared as if from a dream - she, too, covered in blood, crying, desperate. Eren could still feel the sting of recoil on his hand from when he had shot the gun. 

When the barn came back into view Eren could immediately tell something was wrong. He could hear shouting coming from inside. His heart dropped - she was in danger. Was it them? He couldn’t see a black car on the road. He set down the buckets and began sprinting to the barn, his footsteps in time to the pounding of his heart. 

“Stop it! Stop!” Came a voice, but it was male - not Mikasa. 

When he reached the barn Eren finally saw what was happening. 

Mikasa and another girl were circling each other, their fists raised. A tall, thin boy was stood watching helplessly. Mikasa’s lip was cut and the other girl’s nose was trickling with blood. Then suddenly Mikasa ducked low and swiped with her legs, knocking the other girl to the ground, and kicked her hard in the chest.

“Mikasa!” Eren yelled, running over. “What the fuck?”

“Get back,” she spat, and was immediately punched in the face as the other girl jumped to her feet. Mikasa kicked back, screaming.

“We have to do something!” Eren said to the boy. “Drag them away from each other!” 

They ran forwards -  Eren hooked his arms under Mikasa’s and pulled her back away from the girl, and the tall boy did the same.

“Get off of me!” Mikasa screamed, thrashing against him. She was so strong that Eren had to struggle with all of his might to keep her from escaping his grip. 

“Why the fuck are you hiding on my farm, huh?” The other girl yelled. She was short - tiny for someone with that much power. Her eyes were narrowed and glaring at Mikasa, and her hair was blonde and tied up. 

“Annie, calm down,” the boy said. “You’re overreacting. Let’s just go and tell your dad-”

“No!” Eren said hastily. “Look, listen, we’ll explain everything.”

“You’d better have a pretty solid explanation, or you’ll both be running for the hills from my father’s gun.” The girl, Annie, spat.

Mikasa broke free from Eren’s grip. “We’re going.” She said, wiping the blood from her lip. 

“Mikasa,” Eren said. “If we explain, they might be able to help us.”

“I wouldn’t count on it-”

“Shut up,” Mikasa said to Annie. “We can’t. Too dangerous. Let’s go, now.” 

“We have to listen to them,” the boy said. “They’re obviously not here for a laugh.”

“Come on, I think they can help us if we just tell them, Mikasa.”

 

Mikasa pulled her scarf tightly around her. She paused, her eyes watching the tall boy and the girl intently. “We’re running. There are people trying to kill me.”

The two strangers looked at each other, both shocked. “What do you mean, people trying to kill you? You’ve got to be joking.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Mikasa said flatly.

“But- but who?”

“I don’t know. They came to my house and they killed my parents. One escaped and found Eren. The other stayed in the house. He found me and tried to kill me. So I stabbed him through the throat. The other went after Eren.”

The boy stepped back in horror. “Annie,” he said, “maybe we should just let them be.”

Annie stepped forward. “I believe you,” she said. “So you can’t stay here. The police will be searching around, asking questions. Trust me, if the police don’t find you on the farm, my father will. And I can assure you that’s worse.”

“Then where are we supposed to go?” Eren asked. 

“About ten, fifteen miles north from here is a train called the Empire Builder, you know the one. They made it just a couple years ago. Hop on there and you’ll be set to Chicago, or you can flee up north to Canada.” The boy said.

“Until then you can stay in the barn. I’ll bring some stuff down for you, alright?” Said Annie.

Mikasa narrowed your eyes. “A couple minutes ago you punched me in the face,” she said. “Why are you being so nice now?”

“Because by the sounds of it you haven’t got anything else but the train,” Annie said. “And I’m only gonna help you get there if you give me that horse.”

“No,” Mikasa said bluntly.

“Mikasa!” Eren said.

“What? There’s no way I’m letting that happen!”

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” Annie said. “Or I’ll go straight up to my farmhouse and tell my dad that you two snuck onto our farm last night.”

She turned and began walking away, leaving Mikasa and Eren at the entrance to the barn with the tall boy. 

“I’m sorry about your parents.” He said. “I know Annie isn’t the most gracious host, but if you do as she says she’s nice enough.”

“Thank you,” Eren said. Mikasa was silent. 

“I’m Bert, by the way,” he said, and turned to follow Annie. 

Mikasa waited until they were out of sight. “We can’t go on that train.” She said.

“What do you mean? Of course we can!” Eren said. “We can hop the train straight from here all the way to Chicago-”

“But what about Erwin? He’s going to come and find me,” she said. 

“Erwin? Shit, yeah; where is he?”

“He was on ranger duty while all of this was happening - he probably doesn’t even know what’s going on. I don’t know what to do. I know he can fight those guys, but I need him to tell me who they are. He and my parents knew. So we need to find him.”

“How are we going to do that? It’s impossible. We’ll get caught by the police!”

Mikasa gasped, and paused for a moment. 

“What? What is it?” Eren said.

“Erwin will be back either today or in the next two days,” Mikasa said, talking more to herself than to Eren. “So when he finds my parents’ bodies and not mine… he’ll know that I escaped. Right?”

“Yeah…” Eren said. “But we can’t exactly go back to your house, can we?”

“No,” Mikasa said. “But if Erwin knows I got away, he’ll come looking for me. He’ll definitely hear what happened in the town. So if we can hold out here for a couple days he’ll be looking for us for definite. I know him. He’ll follow what the police are doing.”

“But he won’t be able to find us here if the police can’t.”

“He’s not going to find us here.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“We’re going to trick them.” 

“Trick them? Who?” 

“Annie and that other guy. Bert. Make them call the police on us.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“And then we’re going to have to flee north with the police on our tails and hope to hell we find that train.”

Eren paused. Thought about it. “And then Erwin will find us through the police.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re insane. What if they shoot at us?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” 

A moment of silence. “No.”

“Well, then this is going to be what happens.”

Eren looked at her. She looked tired; dark circles lined her eyes and her skin was pallid. There was still blood under her nails and dripping from the cut on her swollen lip. 

“Come on,” he said. “I picked some berries and got some water earlier. You want some?”

“Yeah, okay.” Mikasa hadn’t eaten in over a day. She wasn’t hungry, but she knew that in order to stay strong she had to have something to eat. 

Eren brought the buckets over to the barn and they sat on the hay next to Saint. Mikasa fed him berries and gave him something to drink. He was still exhausted from everything that had happened but seemed content enough. Mikasa leaned her head on Eren’s shoulder but stayed quiet as they ate. She was ignoring all thoughts of her parents. She just… couldn’t. There was too much to think about - finding Erwin, discovering who these mysterious men were, and killing as many of them as she could until she reached their source. Mikasa didn’t have the time to get upset about her parents. Not now. It would distract her from what she needed to do. 

“Mikasa,” Eren said. “What happened while I was gone? Why were you fighting that girl?”

“She started it,” Mikasa said simply. “What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I, er, hadn’t expected you to be so strong.”

Mikasa shrugged. “Training’s all I’ve had to do for the last six years. I got good after a while.”

“You did.” He paused. “Hey, Mikasa.”

“What?”

“The guy I… the guy that found me in the alleyway,” he breathed in deeply. “He called you the Ackerman girl.”

“The Ackerman girl? What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Eren shrugged. “I thought you might know something about it.”

“No, I don’t. But it’s a starting point I guess. If we could get one of them on their own… we could ask him some questions. But that’s only if my plan fails.”

In honesty, Eren didn’t think it would ever work. So he was glad that they had other options. 

“Do you think we should try and contact Armin?” Eren said. 

“Armin? What’ll he be able to do?” Mikasa asked. 

“He could research them. If we tell him what we know then maybe he could help us.”

“We’d have to phone him. He wouldn’t be able to write back to us if we sent a letter.”

“Do you think there’s a phone on the farm?” Eren asked. 

“Maybe,” Mikasa paused. “But I seriously doubt we’d be able to use it.”

“Shit,” Eren said. 

“We’ll be okay if we just find Erwin,” Mikasa said. 

“And if he doesn’t find us?” Eren asked. 

Mikasa was silent. “Then I want to go home.”

“I thought you said they’d be waiting for you there?”

“Not at the park. Home. I want to go back to New York.”

“Seriously? Don’t you think that would be too dangerous? I mean, they might know where I live.”

“Where else, then, Eren? Where else? My parents are dead! We have no money. We have no food. All I’ve got is a bag and a horse, and you, and I want to go back home.” Eren could hear the tears in her voice.

After a moment, he replied. “Okay,” he said softly. “If Erwin doesn’t find us, then we’ll go home.”

“Thank you.”

The midday sun was hot and Mikasa closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of it on her face as it streamed through the holes in the roof of the barn. Home. It was a nice thought amongst the constantly repeating memories of the previous night. It was a place where she had good memories of her parents. She didn’t think she could ever go back to that cabin - but their old apartment was a place where her memories were not tarnished by the sight of her parents lying dead on the floor. 

Mikasa sighed a long, tired sigh, and lay back next to Eren. She stretched out her legs, which ached from yesterday’s swim. Mikasa couldn’t believe that was yesterday. It felt like years ago. 

“Are you alright?” She asked Eren. 

“No,” Eren said. “Not at all. I’m worried for my dad.”

“You said you didn’t know where he was going. So how could they know?”

“I don’t know. I’m just scared. Mikasa, I’m a murderer. I shot that guy in the face without even thinking about it-”

“It was self-defense.” Mikasa said bluntly. “They’re not good people. They’re evil. They killed my parents and they tried to kill you, and so we killed them back. Fair’s fair.”

“But don’t you… don’t you feel terrible about it?”

Mikasa opened her mouth to speak but stopped. She was quiet for several moments. Did she feel terrible about killing him? Deep down… no. She was furious, but she wasn’t sad. 

“I’m angry,” Mikasa said. 

“I was angry,” Eren said. “When my mom died. I picked so many fights with people. Jean, mostly.”

“You didn’t tell me that in your letters,” Mikasa said. 

“Why would I? I was excited to talk to you. I didn’t want to make it depressing.”

Another painful silence. “It’s so odd to think that just yesterday I believed that we were going to just be hanging out together.”

“I know.”

“I’m tired,” Mikasa said, curling up next to Saint. “I think I’m going to go back to sleep now.”

“Okay,” Eren smiled at her and stood up. “Do you want anything?” 

“No,” she yawned. “Just stay here.”

Eren sat back down next to her. Her eyes were closed and she breathed slowly, and soon she was asleep. After a while, he lay down beside her and stared up at the ceiling, but he was soon interrupted by Annie.

“I’ve got your stuff.” In one hand she held a large bag, in the other a flask of coffee. She threw it down on the hay next to him. “She’s sleeping, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eren said, rifling through the bag. There was water, food, and a blanket. It would make for a much more comfortable day. “Thanks for this.”

“Thank Bertholdt, he got it together. I just brought it down.” Annie said. “You know, that girl can really fight. Where’d she learn?”

“Family friend. She moved here from New York six years ago. This is the first time I’ve seen her since.”

“That blows.” 

“Yeah, it does. What about you? Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Annie shrugged. “I live on a farm. It’s help out or get out. It made me strong, so I thought I’d put my strength to good use. Plus it’s helpful when you’re the youngest sibling.”

“Fair enough.”

“Well, I’m gonna go. See you.”

“Wait!” Eren said to her. He stood up and walked over. “I just wanted to say thank you for letting us stay here. I know you and Mikasa didn’t get off on the, er-”

“Yeah, well, I was angry. So was she, which is pretty understandable. As long as she gives me her horse for all this, I don’t care.” 

She left then, and Eren went and lay the blanket over Mikasa, who was sleeping quietly. Eren was glad that she looked peaceful, and hoped that when she woke up she would feel a little better. 

  
  
  



	8. The Deep End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, this is the bit I've been so excited to write! 
> 
> Please don't hate me too much for it! Everything will make sense in the end!

**May 4th, 1935. New York City.**

Only two days had passed since Jean had last seen Armin, but it felt like longer. Jean hadn’t been to see him and apologise - not because he didn’t want to, but because he hadn’t had the chance. Jean thought about Armin and the last day they had spent together as he stood outside a building on the outskirts of the city. He’d already been there three hours and he was getting extraordinarily bored.  _ But work’s work,  _ Jean thought. 

Jean hadn’t tried to trick himself into thinking that Armin wouldn’t be angry. He knew that Armin would be furious after he’d just left him like that when Armin had asked him to stay; he knew Armin didn’t want him to be involved in all of the things he was involved with; and he knew Armin hated the fact that he was hurting people so he could get money. But he also knew that Armin was unaware of the fact that he needed money so desperately. He needed to help his mother - what more was there to do? It wasn’t like he could just go out and get a job - the city was a mess. Just a ten minutes walk away from where Armin and Jean had eaten ice cream people were living in houses made from tin and sleeping under newspapers instead of sheets. 

In his trouser pocket was a small gun. Jean was hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. It was his third day of this job, and so far he hadn’t touched it. One of the other guys was sick and Jean had taken over the tedious task of doing his job, working in a protection racket. It was easy, Jean supposed. All he had to do was wait outside all day. His superior had told him that it was unlikely that anyone would come looking for trouble, but if they did, then he would handle most of it anyway. The guy seemed pretty high up the ladder. It was the very same man Jean had met when he had told the gang where Mikasa was. The guy arguing with the boss. 

Levi Ackerman.

He was a short man, even shorter than Armin. He was all mean looks and muscle - intimidating, to say the least. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, it was cold and to the point, and he wasn’t one for humour. Jean had learned that the hard way when he’d tried to make a joke and was met with a swift kick to the stomach. He kept quiet after that.

Levi had explained what their game was. It was something they had used to do in Japan - tricking shady businesses into thinking they were under attack, offering their protection at a very high cost, and bullying the owners out of more money when they fell behind on payments by threatening to turn on them. It was a cruel business but they all got paid well. To sooth his moral conscience Jean told himself his mother needed the money more than those criminals did anyway.

His mother had gotten worse over the past couple days. Jean had noticed that she didn’t want to do much else than drink, and she kept coming back to the house at night with men he’d never seen before. Jean was always tempted to sneak out of the house at night to go and see Armin for some company but he was too scared that Armin wouldn’t want to speak to him. He was sick of seeing his mother drunk. Armin was the only company he had that seemed to like him. And Jean wasn’t even sure of that anymore.

“We’ll do another hour here.” Levi said. “Then we’re going to go back. Next shift should be here by then.”

Jean and the other guys nodded. Jean leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, took a deep breath. His legs ached from standing up for too long. He checked his watch. Only one p.m. Maybe he could go and see Armin tonight - say sorry and try to explain. It was worth a shot, he supposed. Armin would have to forgive him eventually. As the hour ticked by Jean wondered what Armin was doing. Was he playing chess? Reading? Maybe he was cooking. Jean hoped Armin wouldn’t be pissed off about Yona. But why would he be? She was just some girl anyway, and it wasn’t like Jean had kept her secret.  _ He looked so crushed, though... _

Until the day they had hung out Jean hadn’t realised how much he had missed Armin’s company. There was something about him that Jean just  _ got  _ \- was it his smarts? His sarcasm? There was something there. Perhaps it was the way he was able to ground him. It fucked him off. If not for Armin he would have a much easier time forgetting all the shitty things he did. Does. When Armin was around Jean didn’t want to be part of this stupid clan, or gang, whatever Levi called it. 

He smiled to himself as he thought of what Armin had said to him. Maybe they could travel together and Jean could cut hair on the road, and Armin could sell books or do whatever it was that he wanted to do. 

The time passed far more quickly than Jean had anticipated it would and soon he was in the back of Levi’s car, looking out of the window. The buildings grew closer together the further they got into the city and the trees grew sparse. 

“Alright, get out.” Levi said when they reached the building. “Go in there and see if anyone has more work for you. You’ll get paid within the next week.”

“Thanks,” Jean said, shutting the car door as the last of the men got out. 

_ After this,  _ he thought to himself,  _ I’ll go see him. He can’t stay mad forever.  _ A month ago, Jean wouldn’t have paid much thought to Armin’s feelings. But now Jean couldn’t him get out of his head. The day they had spent together was on repeat in his mind; there was no distraction from it. God, how he wished he could spend every day like that.

The building from which Jean usually got his jobs was close to the center of the city. It looked, pretty much, like an ordinary bar. There were rooms above where the men higher-up in the organisation worked, and underneath, a basement where Jean was pretty sure illegal gambling happened. He had to stand outside the door sometimes while it took place. 

“Boss!” A man suddenly ran from the building and straight to Levi. “You need to get in here now! Tamiko Ackerman is dead!”

Jean watched in horror as the blood drained from Levi’s face. 

“Where’s Rod?” He asked calmly, but Jean saw his hands shaking. 

“Upstairs. We haven’t told him yet. Thought you should do it.”

Levi turned around suddenly. “You.” He said, staring directly at Jean. “You’re coming with me.”

He grabbed Jean’s wrist painfully tightly. “And the girl?” He directed at the man.

“She escaped. They can’t find her.”

Jean’s stomach dropped. He felt like he might be sick - were they talking about Mikasa again? But her last name wasn’t Ackerman…

“She was seen with a boy. Average height and build, I was told, green eyes, brown hair.”

“Eren…” Jean said under his breath. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

Levi’s head snapped around to stare at him. He squeezed his wrist tighter. “You know him?” He asked. 

“Uh, I, I-” Jean started. 

“Tch. You can save it for the boss.”

“The boss?” 

“Where the fuck do you think we’re going, kid?”

Jean kept silent. Dread was coursing through his body, threatening to overcome him. 

“It’s Blake, right?”

“Yes, sir.” The man said, bowing. 

“Keep ahold of this brat here until I’m done talking to Rod. Got it?”

“Yes.”

Levi nodded. They had reached the room Jean had found himself in the day he had given away Mikasa’s location. The day, he realised now, he had betrayed his friends. 

“You better have some useful fucking information.” Levi glared at him before entering the room. 

“Sit down.” The man named Blake snapped. 

Jean’s brain was racing, his thoughts all traveling in a million different directions. But one question remained at the heart of it. 

“Who is Tamiko Ackerman?” 

“You ain’t heard of Tamiko?”

“No, sir.”

“She’s a fucking traitor,” he spat. “And the mother to that girl. Mikasa.”

Jean felt the guilt in his heart triple at his words. “H-her mother?”

“Yeah, you listening or not?”

“But why do they want her?” 

“Beats me. I’m not told much. Now shut up and stop asking questions.”

Jean fell silent just as the shouting began. A string of Japanese words erupted from the room opposite them, so loud that they could have been heard from the street.

“The fuck…” Blake said, craning his head towards the door, just as it flew open, and the fat, short man from a few weeks ago burst out, cursing.

“You!” He shouted, pointing his stubby, fat finger in Jean’s face. “In there! Now!” 

Jean’s whole body shook as he followed Levi into the room. 

“Stand there,” the fat man spat. “You know who I am?” 

“Sir, you are Rod Reiss.”

“And do you know the importance of that name?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well?” 

“It means you… you’re my boss.”

“I’m everyone’s boss,” Rod Reiss said, a glint in his eye. “Now, tell me. What possessed you and made you thought it would be a good idea to not tell us about this… Levi! What was his name?”

“Eren Jaeger, sir.”

“This Eren Jaeger.”

“Uh, well, I…”

“ _ Well?” _

“I didn’t think it was relevant, sir,” Jean said. He could hear the tremble in his voice. “I didn’t know what you were going to do with her. I didn’t think-”

“Enough!” Rod Reiss took a step closer to Jean. “Now, what was it?”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Your name.”

“Jean, sir. Jean Kirstein.”

“Well,  _ Kirstein,  _ let me tell you something.” He stepped back from Jean, walked to his desk, and opened a drawer. He pulled out a knife from inside of it, which was adorned with a symbol Jean didn’t recognise. 

“Do you know what we do to those who fuck up around here?” He walked back over to Jean, brandishing the knife. 

Jean felt as if he was going to faint. He had never been more terrified in his life. “No, sir,” he said.

“We cut off their fingers, don’t we, Levi?”

“No, no, please!” Jean pleaded. “I didn’t mean any harm-”

“Ah ah, don’t worry,” Rod Reiss said. “That’s why we’re giving you one chance to redeem yourself.”

He paused. 

“Now, it seems to me that you were once close to Mikasa. Is that correct?”

“Uh, yes, years ago, though-”

“Good. Tell me, would you be the first person she’d call in a crisis?”

“No, sir,” Jean said. “But-”

“Do you know who  _ would  _ be the first person she’d call in a crisis?”

Jean fell silent.  _ It was Armin.  _ There was no way he could tell them.

Rod Reiss stared at him straight in the eye.

“No,” Jean said, “I don’t.”

“Oh? Levi, would you, then?”

Levi strode across the room faster than Jean thought people could move and pushed him down onto the desk, holding his hands down firmly and using his foot to press Jean’s head onto the wooden surface. The edge of it pressed into Jean’s chest, only increasing the pain he had already been feeling there, and he gasped with how much it hurt. 

Rod Reiss bent down and grinned at him. “Well,” he said, flicking the knife so that it caught the sunlight. “Then there’s only one thing we can do. Levi?”

Levi used one of his hands to press Jean’s arm flat on the table, contorting him into an agonising position. Rod Reiss walked slowly over, brandishing the knife. 

“We start with the tip of your pinky,” he said sadistically. “And then we work down from there.”

Jean was whimpering with the pain but resolved to stay quiet. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me? You know, I had thought you one of us.” Rod Reiss said, resting the tip of the knife on Jean’s finger. “You just have to tell us who’d she’d call, and we’ll let you walk out of here free.”

_ Armin. Armin… I haven’t got a choice! _

“Tell him.” Levi’s voice said coldly.

The man pressed the knife a little further into Jean’s hand, drawing blood.

_ I’m sorry. _

“Okay, alright!” Jean cried, tears beginning to stream down his face. “I’ll tell you! Just please let go of me!”

“Levi-”

Levi let go of him and Jean fell to the floor, panting. “ _ Armin _ . His name is Armin Arlert.”

*****

“Check,” said Armin’s grandfather, as Armin moved his knight for him.

Armin studied the board for a second before cursing. “How didn’t I notice that?” He said, exasperated. 

“Because you’re a lousy chess player,” the old man laughed. “Go and change the record, would you?”

“I’m not lousy,” Armin said, standing up, “you’re the only person I’ve played who can beat me.” He grabbed his cup for a refill of coffee.

“You’re the one moving my pieces, so you can’t accuse me of cheating, if that’s what you’re saying!” 

Armin laughed. “I know you’re not cheating. What song do you want?”

“Anything.”

“Typical. Mozart it is, then.”

“You need to start listening to other composers, Armin. You’re getting obsessed, I think.”

“I’m not!” Armin lied. “But you said anything, so…”

The old man sighed. “Fine.”

Armin put the needle down on his favourite record and poured himself another cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Your move.” Said Armin’s grandfather when Armin was sat down again. 

“I know, I know, just let me think.” Armin surveyed the board for a good way to get out of check. A rook, four pawns, and a bishop had already been captured, and they’d barely been playing for forty-five minutes. 

“So when’s that Jean friend of yours coming over again?” The old man asked. “You’ve not mentioned him since you two went out.”

Armin sighed. “He’s busy, I guess. It’s only been two days.”

“I mean, it’s not like I mind the chess in the slightest, but I was relying on him to get you out of the house for once. What’s he been doing?”

Armin laughed. “Like he’d tell me. He’s probably off with his girlfriend.”

“His  _ girlfriend _ ? I didn’t have him down as-”

“Pawn to E4,” Armin said suddenly, noticing a way out, and gladly interrupting his grandfather. He was glad the man was blind for a fleeting moment - he could feel his cheeks growing hot, and there was nothing Armin’s grandfather loved more than teasing him. He didn’t want to add Jean to his already long list of material.

But Armin, too, had been surprised by Yona. Though - and he hated himself for it - he was more saddened by the news than surprised, and he certainly wasn’t angry. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting - after all, Jean was good looking, and Armin supposed there were bound to be sisters and daughters and cousins of the men working in the gang hanging around, looking for a man. 

Truth be told, Armin was just worried that Jean thought he was mad. He wasn’t at all, though he knew he probably should be - all Armin wanted was to spend time with him. He hated being to only lonely one out of them both.

“Though that’s probably what you were expecting.” Armin said after a long silence between them.

“It was, but hang on. Be quiet a second. Someone’s about to knock on the door.”

_ Jean?  _ Armin strained to listen, but he couldn’t hear anything over the music. 

“I don’t know what you’re on about, there’s nobody-” 

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Well? Go and get it.” Armin’s grandfather said smugly. 

Armin rolled his eyes, but he was excited. Would it be Jean standing there? Had he come to stay over. Armin wondered what he would cook, whether Jean would like it. 

_ Calm down,  _ he told himself.  _ Stop getting so anxious over nothing. _

Armin ran his hands through his hair and straightened his shirt before unlocking the door to the apartment and opening it slowly. 

“Jean!” He exclaimed, smiling widely. “How are you doing - wait, Jean? What’s wrong?”

Jean’s face was pale and his hands were balled into fists and shoved into his pockets. He was hunched over, and his eyes refused to meet Armin’s.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, staring at the door frame to avoid seeing Armin standing right in front of him.  “Could I… could I come in, please?”

“Uh, yeah, sure…” Armin opened the door fully to let Jean get past, and stepped out of the apartment.

And then the rest of the men appeared from opposite ends of the hall, carrying baseball bats and guns, shouting furiously as they ran toward him. 

“What the fuck-” Armin started, but as the man Jean knew as Blake swung his bat, it collided directly with the side of Armin’s head, and less than a second later he was out cold on the floor, lying unconscious at Jean’s feet. 

Jean stared down at him just as the shouts of Armin’s grandfather began to erupt from the apartment, but as the blind man stood, he tripped on the chessboard’s table, sending the pieces flying in every direction, and he fell to the floor.

Jean did nothing as the men rushed past him to get into the apartment. He simply stared at Armin’s unconscious body on the ground. A drop of blood fell from the cut on his finger and landed just inches from Armin. 

“You have to understand, alright?” Jean said, though he knew Armin couldn’t hear him. “I  _ had to.” _

Armin didn’t move, but blood from a cut on his head was starting to trickle down his forehead, matting his fringe. 

“I didn’t have a choice.”

His voice was cold. 


	9. Bleak

**May 5th, 1935. Leonhardt Farm, Oregon.**

There wasn’t much of a sunrise, Mikasa noticed, when the sky was overcast. None of the usual reds and oranges - just blackness fading to a dull grey, then again to a slightly lighter grey. With the light came only the ability to detect every deficiency of the derelict barn; every rickety plank of wood, every cobweb hanging above them, every hole in the roof. Mikasa had seen all this, awake and lying perfectly still next to Eren, under the moth-eaten blanket Annie had so kindly provided for them, and she’d seen it with a dullness behind her eyes that seemed to perfectly match the sky she was watching. The even, metronomic rhythm of Eren’s breathing only added to the monotonous tranquility of Mikasa’s morning scene. After many hours, she rolled over to look at him. 

He looked peaceful when he was sleeping. Mikasa longed for him to look that content when he woke, but she knew that it was eventually inevitable that his worried glances and awkward attempts at making her feel better would return. He meant well, and he was scared too; but Mikasa wished she could simply plan for what she had to do next.

Mikasa had lost her family. And she was going to find out why.  

Suddenly determined, Mikasa silently slipped out from underneath the blanket and climbed down the steep wooden stairs. Waiting for her at the bottom was a bag, inside of which were a few articles of clothes that Annie had obviously grown out of and some apples. She bit into one; it was tasteless. Only the knowledge that she needed it to stay strong stopped her from spitting the apple out onto the dusty floor. 

Trying to stay as quiet as possible, Mikasa began her training. It was the usual routine - she started by stretching, before moving onto press ups and sit ups. When she first began her training with Erwin, she’d grow tired easily; despite her natural aptitude, she was pushed hard every day. She had hated the endlessness of it, how it never seemed to get any easier. But eventually it had, and Mikasa loved the burning feeling in her muscles as she pushed herself further and further, until they screamed at her to stop. She didn’t. 

Punch, punch. Kick. Kick higher. Drop down. Sweep her leg around. Repeat.

The rhythm created by the thudding she made on the ground as she trained became almost mesmerising, hypnotic, and it was as if Mikasa was in a sort of trance. And as she moved she envisioned those mysterious men, the men that had she had failed to protect her family from. She killed them all. In her mind, every single one of them that tried to kill her or Eren she murdered. It was a rage, but a calm rage. A rage she had under complete control, bubbling under the surface, ready to channel into pure, unadulterated energy to fight with. 

“Mikasa?”

She snapped out of it when she heard Eren’s voice from the top of the barn. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is groggy with sleep. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know.” She carried on punching the air, hearing the faint  _ whoosh  _ of her fists. “And I’m training.”

“At this time?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” 

“What do you mean, why? So I can get stronger.”

Eren laughed as he put on and buttoned up a shirt. He came down the stairs from the top of the barn. “You don’t need to get any stronger.”

Mikasa didn’t say anything, just kept training. 

“You need someone to practice on?”

She stopped then; turned and looked at him. She felt her expression soften when she saw his face, the way his hair stuck up at all angles and his eyes were so intense. 

“You want me to fight you?”

“Yeah. If it helps. You could probably teach me a couple things too.”

“You don’t need to learn how to fight, though.”

“Why not? I want to fight them too, you know!”

Mikasa glared at him and he visibly recoiled. “No.”

“But-”

“I’m here. I can fight better than anyone. And I’m protecting you, so you don’t need to learn.”

“I don’t want to just stand helplessly on the sidelines! If we see them again, then I want to fight them with you!”

“I’m not risking it, Eren. I’m not letting them take away the rest of my family. Don’t you get it?”

“Mikasa-”

“Where did I find you, Eren? Huh? You were practically begging to get caught there-”

“What are you talking about? I was fine, and I want to help protect you-”

“The fucking cops were about to shoot you-”

“-don’t want to be useless, and besides, I’m not just going to stand on the sidelines-”

“I’M NOT LOSING YOU AGAIN!” 

Silence.

Mikasa was out of breath, finally, and the pain of the relentless training she’d put herself through flooded into her. She could feel tears in her eyes, and she longed to sit down and cry into Eren’s shoulder and run away to a safe place - but she couldn’t. She didn’t  _ have  _ a safe place. And she didn’t have time to waste being weak. Eren was so important to her that she wouldn’t compromise his safety by accounting for his feelings.

“Let me prove to you that I’m strong enough,” Eren said, staring at her intensely. His eyes were shining brightly despite the overcast sky. She felt so much when she looked him that if she were try to describe they way he looked she wouldn’t know where to start.

Mikasa pushed the tears back. Pushed the feelings back. Pushed back every tiny annoyance along with the aching of her heart, the pain of missing her parents, and the fear; the overwhelming fear. 

“You want to fight me?” She said, tone sharper, eyes narrowed on him, an icy glare. 

“I can take you on.” His voice, challenging; always something to prove.

“Come on then,” she beckoned. She was so ready for a fight. He came a little closer to her, taking in deep breaths, trying to concentrate. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Eren moved quickly, rushing her, and swung his fist, which she dodged, his arm hitting the air where her head had been a second before. Mikasa sprung back up, sidestepping to avoid him as he ran straight past her. _ This is too easy.  _ But still, as it always did, the adrenaline of the fight consumed her, and her muscles begged her to go on the offensive. Mikasa wanted to, but she held back, simply moving out of the way of all of Eren’s attacks. 

Teeth bared, panting; Eren was becoming frustrated. He couldn’t land a single hit, and she looked like this was costing her no effort at all. She carried herself almost lazily, moving like the wind had blown her in that direction. When he threw a punch, she’d catch it. When he ran at her, she’d simply move to the left. When he tried going in with his elbows, she’d force him back with ease, or move around him so quickly that he barely saw her.

He tried kicking her in the stomach, and seconds later Eren found himself on the floor, head throbbing. Mikasa was sat on his chest, one hand pushing his head up by his chin, the other mimicking a dagger at his throat. 

“Dead,” she said flaty, drawing her finger across his neck. 

He said nothing, just stared at her, breathing heavy, eyes wide. 

“And that’s why I don’t want you trying to help me.”

“Mikasa…”

“What.”

“This is all you did for six years?”

“Yes.”

Eren breathed out slowly. The sun was finally coming out from behind the clouds, and it shone in a halo around her head. Her hair was falling over her shoulders, and a strand of it tickled the side of his face. He looked at her.

How terrifyingly beautiful she was. 

Mikasa stood up, turning her back to him, and ran a hand through her hair. “It’s too long,” she said. “Where’s my knife?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Erwin always told me it was too long, but my mom never wanted me to cut it off.”

“Your hair?”

Mikasa looked at it, ignoring Eren. Her hair - the last link between her and her mother. When she was little, Mikasa would sit patiently while her mother braided it. The woman would tell her stories, and Mikasa would listen, and then when her hair was finished, she would run outside and it would quickly become ruined, knotted. Those memories were happy ones, and Mikasa craved happy memories like they were her drug; how else would she push away the images of her parents’ bodies lying lifeless on the floor of their house? 

What was more important - those memories, or the greater chance of survival shorter hair would give her? Her knife was in her bag, just across the barn. She walked over to it and grabbed the knife, feeling the coolness of it in her hand. Her heart was still pounding hard with adrenaline. Eren was watching her, unsure of what to do; Mikasa was the stable one, Mikasa was the one with the level head, Mikasa was the one that protected  _ him _ . He wasn’t used to this. Her were hands shaking, her face pale, movements jerky. 

Mikasa’s mind was racing with images of the man she had murdered, and how she had almost been the one killed. He’d grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him - if she hadn’t managed to escape his grip, he could have done a lot worse. She shuddered as her mind imagined the endless possibilities, most of which ending with her throat being slit. 

Eren didn’t stop Mikasa as she lifted her hair into a ponytail with one hand and raised her knife with the other. He didn’t grab her arm or tell her to rethink what she was doing as she slashed with the sharp edge and let her long, black hair fell to the ground at her feet. He didn’t walk over to her as she knelt down and murmured something at the ground where her hair lay, and he didn’t follow her as she walked out of the barn. Eren just watched her go, her hair now barely scraping her chin, cut slightly wonkily, like the arms of a tightrope walker trying to steady herself. There were tears in his eyes; he felt so  _ helpless _ , and he hated it more than he hated anything in his life. 

Wiping away the tears frustratedly, Eren picked up the bag Annie had left, trying to distract himself from thoughts of Mikasa, and how she had screamed at him, pinned him down, and looked at him like prey to kill. He ignored the apples and clothes, and at the bottom, he found a note that Mikasa must have missed. 

_ Train leaves tomorrow. I’ll be down later to discuss. No negotiations. - A _

Eren sighed. Back on the road again. He thought about Mikasa’s plan and how dangerous it was, and how they didn’t have a choice. They needed Erwin - this man Mikasa had told him about, the one who’d trained her for all those years. He sounded terrifying. And, of course, Mikasa couldn’t leave Saint. Not after everything that had happened to her, after everything else she’d lost.

*****

“The train leaves at twelve on the dot. It doesn’t wait around,” Annie said to Eren. Mikasa had come back from her walk, sullen and silent, and was listening to their conversation from across the barn. She was sat next to Saint, feeding him apples, and letting him drink from a dish of water. She was perfecting the details of her own plan to fit in accordance with what Annie thought was going to happen. 

Annie hadn’t said a word about Mikasa’s hair, though her perfectionism wanted desperately to straighten the lopsided cut. It infuriated her.

“What if we miss it?” Eren said, trying to catch Mikasa’s eye and failing.

“Not my problem. I’m telling you what to do. Hardly my fault if you fuck it up.”

Eren looked at the ground awkwardly, unable to meet her eye. He almost felt guilty for his plan to con her, but then he thought of Saint, and Mikasa. He became determined.

“Right.”

“I’ll be up to get you early in the morning. Four, maybe five. We need to leave before my dad gets up. I don’t particularly want to explain why I have two murdering fugitives in his barn, so keep it down when we’re leaving, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure.” Eren thought it best to agree with her blindly. It wasn’t like this plan mattered. They had their own to forge. 

But would it work? 

Stuck in this situation, Eren suddenly missed Armin, and selfishly wished he was with them.  _ He’d know what to do. Exactly what to do.  _ That was just who Armin was. He grounded them both, and Eren longed to feel calmed by Armin’s presence. Annie was still talking, but Eren was only half-listening, thinking of Armin. Whatever he was up to, Eren considered it better than what he was doing.  _ Probably playing chess or something, _ Eren supposed, and contented himself with the thought that one of his best friends was safe and sound, tucked away with his grandfather in their cozy New York apartment.

“Hey, brat,” Annie snapped. “Are you listening to me or not?”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Mikasa finally spoke, her voice quiet but chilling. 

Annie turned to look at her slowly. “Why not? You got a problem, China?”

Mikasa was on her feet and across the barn to Annie in seconds. “What did you call me?” 

Every inch of her was tipped towards Annie, accusatory, itching for a fight. 

“I said, you got a problem, China? ‘Cause if you do, you’d better tel-”

Silence fell for all but a second after the loud thud of Mikasa’s fist connecting with Annie’s nose. 

“I’m Japanese, you piece of shit!” Mikasa screamed as she dodged Annie’s fist and threw another punch, this one missing by barely an inch. 

It was a slugging match - no skill involved, just brute strength, anger, and passion for the fight. Over the pounding of blood through her ears, Mikasa could make out Eren shouting at them to stop, but why would she?  _ This feels good,  _ she thought to herself, feeling her fists burn and she ache of a punch straight to her gut.

Annie stepped back, her hands out. Blood was dripping from her now-wonky nose. “Stop, stop!” 

Mikasa paused, fist half-raised in the air. Eren was watching, ready to step in and pull them away from each other if it got any worse. Annie was panting, leaning over, her hands on her knees. She stood up, tucking her hair behind her ear, and breathed deeply. She wiped the blood from her nose on her sleeve.

“What?” Mikasa said.

“I don’t fucking care where you’re from. I don’t have the time for this shit, I’m going. Just be up early tomorrow.” She narrowed her eyes. “And don’t forget that I’m the only one around here actually helping you out, yeah?”

Mikasa and Eren watched her leave in silence. Eren didn’t know what to say. He turned to Mikasa. She was smiling. 

“Annie’s laughing now,” Mikasa said, “but she won’t be tomorrow, huh?”

“Mikasa, what the hell was all that about?”

“She insulted you,” Mikasa said simply, walking back to Saint. Eren followed her. 

“You need help. You need to talk to me about what happened so we can get through this together, Mikasa.”

“I’m fine,” Mikasa snapped. 

“You’re obviously  _ not fine _ .”

“What does it matter?” 

“Mikasa.” Eren reached out to touch her arm. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

She shrugged him away. 

“All I care about is making it through tomorrow and finding Erwin.”

* * *

**May 5th, 1935. New York.**

When Armin woke up, everything was tainted by a foggy blur, and his head throbbed. His eyes opened slowly. 

“You’re awake,” said a man. 

Armin turned to where the voice had come from, and winced with the pain. He sat up slowly, vision still blurry, and touched his head.

Suddenly, everything came back to him. Jean. The men with him. He scrambled back away from the dark smudge of a person in the doorway. His hand hit the bedside table when he reached for his glasses; they weren’t there.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” the man said. He had a thick accent. “You just have to do as I say.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you? And where are my glasses?”

“I have your glasses. Here.” The man walked closer and Armin could see him a little better; he was short, with dark hair and eyes, and a mean look. He passed Armin the glasses, his sleeve riding up to show intricate tattoos. There was a jagged crack through the right lens of Armin’s glasses, making everything look out of place when he put them on. It made him dizzy. He felt sick.

“My name is Levi.”

“Where’s Jean-”

“With us.”

“With you?”

_ The gang. This was the gang Jean was in? _

“You’ve been out for a for a whole day. We were worried, but it’s not a problem now.”

“Where’s my grandfather?” 

“He’s in his room.”

“Is he alright-”

“He’s fine. I’m going to have to ask you to stop interrupting me.”

Silence; but Armin’s mind was racing.

“Good. Now. I want you to know that we’re not here to hurt you. We need a favour from you.”

The man stepped forward. Armin could recognise something in his face. 

“Do you remember a girl named Mikasa?” 

Armin’s heart sank. His mind flashed back to the night she had left; Eren had ran to his apartment, crying, and told him everything. 

They were running from someone. Was this the man? 

_ Wait.  _

Then… Jean was involved. This was the gang Jean was part of, after all. And what did they want with Mikasa? Was she in danger?

“Your friend was kind enough to tell us to tell us where she was, but-”

“No,” Armin said, his mind, so sharp usually, foggy. “That can’t be right, he - he wouldn’t do that. What did you do to him?”

The man laughed. “Nothing! He told us of his own free will. But, as I was saying - we found her. But she’s a slippery one, and she escaped us. Not what I was expecting, if I’m honest, but she’s an Ackerman, after all. 

“So we’re trying to find her, and thanks to Mr Kirstein, we now know that you are the person she’d be most likely to call. You’ve got quite a minimal role in all this, if I’m honest, but we need you nonetheless. The plan is quite simple, and you’re quite clever, aren’t you, Mr Arlert? You should be able to understand. When she calls, you’re going to answer, and you’re going to say exactly what we tell you to. Then you can go free. Of course, we won’t be leaving you unattended up until this point, so-”

“What makes you think I’m going to do that?” Armin asked. There was a churning in his stomach. 

The man laughed. 

“Well, Armin. If you don’t, we’ll kill your grandfather. And then we’ll kill you.”

 


	10. Erwin

**4.50 am. May 6th, 1935. Leonhardt Farm, Oregon.**

Mikasa was used the the cold bite of the early air; Eren was not.

She’d always functioned better in the morning. She feels the benefits of sleep before the day, before her memories drag well-restedness from her and she becomes tired. The coldness effects her like an electric current through her bones, strengthening her. Her eyes focused better, and in the darkness she could pick out her surroundings easily.

Eren felt dragged down by the early morning. It always took him longer to adjust to the almost pitch black, and he felt the tiredness dragging his eyes shut. A fiery headache burned in his temples, and he was thankful for Mikasa’s silent movements. 

The air was cold and slightly damp. There were crickets chirping somewhere in the fields.

“Are you sure that everything’s packed?” Mikasa asked Eren. “She’ll be here soon.”

“I’ve got everything.” Speaking hurt his head. He gestured to the bag on his back. “It’s all in here. All the food we should need and water for Saint.” 

“Good. Just checking.”

“I know.”

He could hear the strain in her voice, tugging at him. He hated hearing her stressed. It made him panic. 

“How long did she say it would take to get there?” Eren asked, impatient. 

“It’s only fifteen miles north. She said we’d have to wait around, remember? Hide somewhere until the train comes.”

“Yeah. Police are going to be swarming the place looking for us.”

“That’s the plan. That’s the whole reason we’re doing this. We’ll have to double back. So they don’t think we’re going to the train. The guys after me, that is.”

“For how many hours? I mean, that’s not going to work, is it-”

“It’s going to have to. Look. She’ll be here any minute, right? Get on the horse.”

They sat on Saint together, Mikasa in front, Eren behind. He was pressed so close to her that she could feel his heartbeat on her back. She traced her thumb over the knot tying Saint in the barn, watching the way her fingers shook and wondering if there were any way she could make them stop.

_ Imagine it’s an adventure. No different to the games you used to play.  _

* * *

_ “Hurry up! They’re gonna get us!” Mikasa shouts to Eren over her shoulder. They’re running through the streets. It’s half past one, and they’ve both just turned nine; they’ve ditched school, bored, and are playing outside. Behind them run imaginary men, dressed up as gangsters, with briefcases stuffed with money in one hand and guns, pointed at them, in the other. They’re pretending that instead of books, their school bags are stuffed with precious jewels. _

_ “We need to make a break for it!” Eren shouts back, pushing past tired-eyed men and women pushing strollers.  _

_ “Follow me!” _

_ Mikasa cuts left into an alleyway, scrambling up over a fence, and Eren follows. They find themselves in another street, and Mikasa jumps onto a tram, holding onto the rail. Eren runs alongside until Mikasa holds out her hand and pulls him up with her. As always, he’s astounded by her strength. They laugh at the disapproving glares of strangers. _

_ “Shouldn’t you two been in school?” One woman asks, her hair pulled back too tight from her head.  _

_ They stick their tongues out at her and jump from the tram to the park, where they share Mikasa’s packed lunch. _

_ When they get home, Mikasa’s mother doesn’t suspect a thing. It’s their secret.  _

_ “Looks like the jewels are safe,” Eren says later that evening, when they’re sitting on the fire escape. “Looks like we’ll be able to get out of this city any day now.” _

_ “I don’t want to go anywhere,” Mikasa says, looking up at the stars. “This is the best place in the world.” _

* * *

Annie’s eyes narrowed at them suspiciously, like she knew something was wrong. Her face wore a cold expression, one that Mikasa had quickly become accustomed to in the short time she had known her.

“Eren,” Annie said, her eyes boring into Mikasa’s, “you’re riding with me.”

Mikasa felt panic, and something else - jealousy? - squirming in the pit of her stomach. “I want Eren by my side,” she said, anxious. The plan was already falling apart. Mikasa knew that this would all go a lot more smoothly if she just let Annie have Saint… but they needed Erwin to find them, and losing Saint would be like losing a part of herself. 

Not that there was much left of herself to lose.

She knew the plan was far-fetched. Erwin could be dead for all she knew, lying on the ground like her mother and father, a bullet resting in his spine. She pushed the thought from her mind as the familiar feeling of panic bubbled in her chest.  _ No time to waste thinking about that now.  _ But it was hard not to - as much as she tried to focus, the countless ways this plan could collapse in on itself pushed themselves to the front of her mind. 

“Where’s Bertholdt?” Mikasa heard Eren ask.

“He’s staying back.” Annie’s voice was cool, collected. Calculated. It made Mikasa uneasy.

“Why?”

“Doesn’t feel well. Come on. Eren, get on my horse with me. We need to go before my father wakes up and sees us.”

“I want Eren with me.” Mikasa’s tone left no room for negotiation. 

“You don’t trust me, Mikasa? If you don’t start co-operating here, I’m just going to go and tell my father about how the two fugitives -  _ the girl that killed her parents and her uncle -  _ are right here in this barn.”

Mikasa could feel the acid bile heaving in her throat, burning. “They think I killed my parents?” She said. Her mouth was dry. 

“Obviously.” Annie jumped from the horse and walked over to Saint. “I thought you would have gathered that by now. Jump off,” she said to Mikasa. “You can ride my horse. Can’t trust you to not run off with yours, now, can I?”

The colour drained from Mikasa’s face. “What do you mean?” 

She looked back at Eren, panic in her eyes. “Do it,” he whispered. 

Mikasa slowly dismounted Saint. Annie’s horse was pure white, a stallion. He looked like he was glaring at Mikasa.

“Thank you,” Annie said, exasperated. 

Mikasa could feel her blood pounding in her veins. Barely ten minutes had passed and their plan had already failed. She clenched her fists, knowing that this was now her only option. She could feel Eren telling her not to do it. But she did; she did what she knew best.

As she passed Annie she forgot her training. All of it. The pointless fights she’d had with Annie were no help at all now; so she acted on instinct and grabbed Annie’s shirt, pushing her back at first. Then as she was about to fall Mikasa pulled Annie towards her and smashed the top of her head straight onto Annie’s still-bruised nose, knocking her unconscious instantly. She fell to the floor, hitting it with a loud  _ thud,  _ and suddenly she looked a lot more vulnerable than she had just moments earlier.

Eren was silent. Mikasa stared at her hands. They had stopped shaking now. It took a second of looking at Annie for what she had done to dawn on her.

“Fuck… Eren, what the… why did I do that?”

Eren jumped down from Saint, panicking silently, and walked over to Annie. Checked her pulse. He breathed deeply, using every ounce of courage he had to stay composed and not show any worry. “She’s fine. But we can’t leave her like this.”

“We’ve got to restrain her, or something,  _ fuck.  _ FUCK!” 

“Calm down, it’s alright.” Eren ran over to the corner where he picked up the rope they’d used to keep Saint in the barn at night. Mikasa dragged Annie over to the hay and lay her down, tied her hands together. She felt like she was going to be sick - she always did. The constant taste of bile in the back of her throat had made it sore.

“Mikasa.” 

She ignored him.

“ _ Mikasa. _ ” His voice, almost pleading. “We have to go.”

She was stood a few feet in front of him, back turned. He stared at her for a second and walked over, facing her, and put his hands on her shoulders.

“I really shouldn’t have done that.” She mumbled, staring at the ground. “We’re fucked.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have. But what happened, happened, yeah? Come on. We’ve got to come up with another plan now.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“Wait.” Eren paused. “This is actually… I think I’ve got it. Alright. We leave now, right, find our own way there. When evening comes and Annie’s not back, Bertholdt is gonna think something’s wrong, right? So he’ll come find her. But by that time we’ll already be on the train. Her father will call the police when he finds out, I’m sure of it, and then Erwin can find us later. We’ll plan it on the train.”

Mikasa could hardly process the words he was saying, but she trusted him. “Okay…” she said slowly, agreeing. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.”

“I just want to get you back home.”

“I know.”

He pulled her close, into a hug, and she stopped everything for a moment. Stopped the panic, the worrying, the fear. She just squeezed him close to her. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Eren smiled and pulled away from the hug, looked at her. He could see that she was scared. That no matter how hard she tried nothing seemed to go right. He leaned in close to her and stared at her face, tilted his head so that their foreheads touched. Her breathing hitched, then slowed. She could feel her heartbeat returning to normal.  _ Home.  _

“Come on,” she said, pulling back. “Take Annie’s horse. We can’t leave it here.”

Mikasa opened her mouth to speak when she was interrupted by a weak laugh from the other side of the room. Annie had woken.

“I fucking knew it,” she said. “Oh, I fucking knew I couldn’t trust you two.”

watched her for a second, frozen, not sure what to do. “You were trying to split us up,” she said cautiously. “I didn’t have a choice.” 

Annie stood up, her hands still tied together. There was still blood dripping from her nose, and she wiped it with her shoulder, wincing slightly at the pain of touching her nose. “Doesn’t matter to me now,” she laughed. 

It took Mikasa a moment to process what she had said. “Did you give us up?”

“For the money,” Annie said simply, standing up and walking out of the barn quickly, if not slightly dizzily.

“What? Where are you-”

And then several bullets flew through the shoddy barn wall, missing Saint by inches. Mikasa screamed and threw herself on the ground, waiting for the next load of bullets to come, and when they didn’t, she looked to Eren. Blood was pounding in her ears and she crawled along the floor of the barn towards the a pile of hay at the back.  _ Hide _ . Eren followed. The shots started again; less this time, but for longer. Annie was running out across the fields, as fast as she could, her hands still bound. A man shouted something in Japanese. 

It was definitely them.

“Quick!” Mikasa motioned to Eren to move quicker, and when they reached the pile, they covered themselves in hay. Mikasa lay, completely silent, but she felt as if the thudding of her heart was so loud that she would give them away. 

Footsteps. They were coming into the barn now. Two of them? They called loudly. 

“Mikasa! Come on out now!” 

Mikasa could hear cars in the distance. More of them. She looked at Eren; was this it?

“We won’t hurt you, Mikasa. We’ve come to bring you home!” His accent was thick. He sounded like he was only a few feet away from her.

Three, maybe four cars screeched to a halt behind them. Mikasa could hear their tires on the  road. The gunshots started again, but Mikasa didn’t hear any tearing through the walls of the barn. She sat with her hands over her head, trying not to make a sound. 

They said something to each other that Mikasa couldn’t quite hear and then the stairs were rattling as one of the men ran up them, his feet pounding. 

But they stopped. Mikasa heard sirens in the distance. The police were coming now. 

She heard them talking to each other. 

“Come out or the horse gets it!” The man from the ground shouted. Mikasa gasped and the man ran up to her. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. She had never felt a grip as strong as his. She kicked him in the stomach, trying to knock him back. Eren tried to pull the man away from her, but the second had his gun trained on him. 

“I got her!” The man shouted. 

The gunshots from outside had stopped. The man with the gun, the taller one, had taken hold of Eren and the barrel of his gun was pushed against Eren’s forehead. 

“Come on, Mikasa. It’s about time you came home with us,” he said, his eyes sharp. “Come and get in the car.”

“Fuck you,” Mikasa spat.

“Do what we say or your friend here dies.” He pushed the gun harder against Eren’s head.

“Eren!” The man was dragging Mikasa out of the barn. She followed. 

“Mikasa, don’t!” Eren shouted. “Run!” 

But even if she had wanted to, Mikasa couldn’t; the man’s hand had such a grip on her that she was wincing with the pain of it. 

He pulled her out of the barn. She could see the flashing of lights, no doubt from police cars, in the distance. Mikasa felt light-headed; it was happening again. Gunshots rang through her ears, each of them echoing deafeningly in her head. Her vision was going blurry. 

She was being taken away from Eren again.

* * *

_ She’s sitting in the back of an unfamiliar car, with an unfamiliar man talking to her mother an unfamiliar language. The streets of New York pass quickly as the car speeds far over the limit; they look blurry through her tears. It’s been ten minutes. Mikasa cries quietly, in part through shock and in part through fear. Her father sits to her side. He has his hand on her knee, murmuring quietly, trying to console her. Fleetingly, Mikasa notices how much paler his skin is than hers - but then she remembers her panic. Where’s Eren? Is he still running after them?   _

_ She realises that he isn’t when they reach the highway. When she turns her head to look out behind them, the road looms long and empty.  _

* * *

“Mikasa!”

For a split second, Mikasa thought it was Eren shouting out to her. But then she looked up. And everything snapped back into focus.

“Erwin!” 

The man holding her let go, and stared for a second in total shock. Mikasa dodged his grip as he lunged for her, and she ran back into the barn to Saint and began untying him, aware of how hot on her heels her kidnapper was. But then two shots rang out; Mikasa heard the thump of the man’s body against the ground. She didn’t look back, and jumped onto Saint. Erwin had caught up to her. 

Mikasa couldn’t begin to comprehend the relief she felt when she saw him. It was going to be alright. Erwin was here; Erwin had saved her before, and he would save her now, too. He already had. His hair was matted with what Mikasa guessed could only be blood; his clothes were stained; and he was bleeding from what looked like a bullet wound in his arm, tied shoddily with a torn off piece of shirt. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked her, looking as relieved as she felt.

“No, I’m fine - but Eren- Erwin… how did you-”

“No time, let’s go - now. This isn’t going to be pretty, I can tell you.” He grit his teeth. 

“But Eren!”

“Erwin?” The man holding Eren said. Erwin span to face him; his face was one of complete shock.

Still holding Eren around the neck, the man slowly removed the barrel of his gun from Eren’s temple and pointed it at Erwin. Erwin’s gun was trained on him, arm steady, no sign of shaking. The man called out in Japanese, saying something Mikasa couldn’t understand. She watched them, wanting nothing more than to run over and pry Eren from his grip, but she knew she would be shot. Or worse; Eren would be. 

“There’s no point calling for them, Akita,” Erwin said. “They’re all dead. Let him go and I’ll let you live.”

The other man narrowed his eyes. “Never thought I’d see your face again,  _ Erwin. _ You are a traitor of the worst kind.”

“You wouldn’t know the meaning of that word.”

“She must come home, Erwin. Stay out of this. It’s for her own good.”

“Just let go of the boy,” Erwin said carefully. “Boss’ll sure favour the lone survivor, won’t he? Better make your mind up, Akita. The cops aren’t far off now.”

Eren wasn’t struggling, but the look of pain on his face was hurting Mikasa. His eyes stared into hers, but she couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. Behind her, she could hear the ragged breathing of the man Erwin had shot. She couldn’t begin to guess how many more he had killed looking for her.

“I’ll give you the boy if you give me Mikasa.”

“That isn’t going to happen and you know it.”

“Then the boy dies.”

“If he dies, I will kill you, Akita. Don’t think I will hesitate to do so. Now, the cops will be here any second, so let me make this easy for you. You’re going to let him go, and then you’re going to walk out of here. We’ll be on our way and you’ll be on yours.”

Akita looked at Erwin with narrowed eyes, but seconds later, he lowered his gun, and released Eren, who dropped to the ground and scrambled to Mikasa. The man turned slowly, casting Erwin one more look, and began to walk out of the barn. 

Erwin shot him in the back of the head. 

Mikasa watched him hit the ground. Eren vomited into the hay. 

“We need to go. Now. Are you injured?” He asked Eren. Eren shook his head. “Good. you get on that horse with me.”

And then, suddenly, they were leaving; leaving behind the derelict barn that been their home for the past four nights. She said goodbye to it silently, turning back one more time to look at the moonlight shining through holes in the roof, casting its light on the bodies scattered on the floor, staining the hay a deep red. Eren and Erwin were beside her, and Erwin nodded at her as they rode out of the barn and onto the road. 

More men dead out here; it looked like a battlefield. 

Erwin set the pace. They moved fast, and Mikasa heard police cars screech to a halt as soon as they turned the corner. When several minutes had passed, and Erwin was sure they were not being followed, he spoke.

“Tell me how you found us.” 

It wasn’t a question. Eren looked at Mikasa, his eyes pleading with her to tell him how to answer. Mikasa nodded.  _ Tell the truth.  _

“Mikasa wrote me letters.” His voice was small and quiet. All he knew of this man was what Mikasa had told him; that he was dangerous, and had vowed to protect Mikasa with his life. 

Erwin was silent for a tense moment. And then he sighed. 

“I had told your mother you were bound to rebel. I suppose it is no less fault of yours than it is mine for leaving you. I underestimated the danger you are in.”

“But what if it is my fault?” Mikasa heard her voice crack. 

Erwin slowed to a stop. In the distance, the sun was beginning to rise, and its light cast shades of orange into the sky. 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he said. “If anything, I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

“Me too.”

“I’m proud of you, Mikasa. You’re a damn good fighter.”

Mikasa could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. “Thank you for teaching me.”

“It was my duty to.”

A few seconds passed. “Who are these people?” Eren asked. 

“I can’t explain now. It’s a very long story. I will explain once we’re safe.”

“They’re why we left New York, right?” Mikasa said. 

“Yes, they are. If we can find a safe space to talk on the train, I can tell you about everything then.”

“We’re going on the train? The Empire Builder?” 

“It wasn’t my first choice. I was going to drive, but my tires were blown out when I came to find you. We can jump on the train.”

“That was what we were going to do,” Mikasa said. “We thought you’d be following the police, so if they saw us getting on the train you’d know where to find us.”

“Good plan. It’s what I would have done.”

“How are we going to get to New York from Chicago? The train doesn’t go all the way,” Eren said.

“New York? We’re not going to New York,” said Erwin. “If you must, you can find your own way from Chicago.”

“What?” Mikasa said. “Why aren’t we going back?”

“We’re going to Canada. I know people there that can get us to England, where we can be safe.”

Mikasa’s heart sank. England? That was even further from New York than Oregon was. “But can’t we go back to the city?”

“No. It’s far too dangerous for that.”

Mikasa swallowed, and tightened her fists around Saint’s reins. Eren looked sideways at her, his eyes wide, not knowing what to say. 

After everything, they were to be separated again. 

 


End file.
